you pull me through time
by ohmytheon
Summary: Maybe Roy Mustang and Riza Hawkeye were tied together from the very beginning. Maybe they were always destined to be in each other's lives, for good or bad. Maybe they never had a chance. One thing's for sure: neither of them would change it for the world. (My take on the 100 Royai Drabbles prompt basically: Royai, Team Mustang antics, Parental!Royai/EdAl.)
1. Military Personnel

**Author's Notes:** You know, I had no intentions of doing this, but Royai week was recent, so I've been reading a lot of fics, and then I ended up starting a rewatch of Brotherhood... And well, I just can't get enough of these two idiots. They're my absolute favorite OTP, to be honest. I'm going to try to keep these drabble size so that I can write more of them faster, but we'll see how that goes. I've actually already got the first ten written, so there's that. The title comes from a quote from the movie, "The Fountain". That is one weird ass movie.

 **Disclaimer:** None of this is mine and I am sad, so you all get to read my suffering instead.

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1\. _Military Personnel_

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She turns twenty-two years-old four days after Roy accepts her as his personal adjutant.

 _It's Colonel Mustang now,_ Riza reminds herself, just as she used to do when she was younger and called him 'Mister Mustang'. It's not so strange, not when she was calling him 'Major' during the war. Still, there's something a lot more final in his name now that she's working directly under him. What a strange turn of events too. Even now, as she shoots a glance in his direction, she can see the boy that he used to be, but only barely.

After finishing the last bit of her paperwork, Riza gathers her coat and the rest of her things to leave. She's the last one to leave the office besides Roy, still unsure of what all her duties entail her to do. Is she supposed to give him a ride home? Close up shop after him? She sighs to herself. Being in the military is all about precision, clear cut rules and guidelines, but Roy has never exactly been one for policies. Things will have to be different now that they're working together in the military. She'll have to keep him on track, like when he'd start procrastinating in his alchemy studies and she nudged him along.

"Ah, Lieutenant?"

Riza lifts her head up and catches Roy looking at her oddly. Well, she assumes it's odd, seeing as how he looks like he's having a difficult time looking her in the face. "Sir?"

Roy scratches the back of his head and glances towards the ceiling lights, looking rather unsure of himself. "Listen; I know there's all these regulations about…proper conduct between military personnel and all, but…" He fumbles with something in his desk drawer, pauses for a second, and then holds out a clumsily wrapped present, practically refusing to look at her now. "But it's your birthday and I know that you don't really know anyone here yet, so I...I got you something."

For a moment, Riza doesn't know what to say. She blinks, staring at the shiny red gift wrap. It's a small box, something he could've hid in his coat pocket to sneak inside the building. A part of her thinks that she should admonish him – even if this is in secret, it's still inappropriate between officer and subordinate – but her heart warms inside her chest. She's already begun to hear what people whisper behind his back – Hero of Ishval on a good day; murderer on a bad one – but these people don't know him like she does. They see a man cloaked by the infamy of his alchemy and the blood of his enemies, not the boy so eager to learn and the young man that choked up when he saw a burned child.

"Thank you." Carefully, Riza takes the gift from his hands and tucks it into her coat. She wouldn't dare open it here, not where something could be construed as improper. She doesn't miss his sigh of relief or the way his cheeks have grown slightly pink, like he's embarrassed at having gone out of the way for her when they both know he wouldn't give any of his other new subordinates a birthday present.

"Think nothing of it," Roy says, waving a hand in the air. Finally, he lets his eyes land on her. There's a sheepish look about him, but a grin finds its way onto his face. "Just don't go expecting this every year."

"I wouldn't dream of it, sir." Riza smiles warmly back at him, unable to restrain herself. They'll have to get better at this if they're going to pursue his goals, but for now, behind closed doors, it's nice to allow themselves this little bit of luxury. It's a birthday present enough to feel like he's her friend and not her boss, if only for a minute. When they step into the office tomorrow, it will return to normal again, he the Colonel and she the Lieutenant, and they'll push this moment out of their minds.

(Until next year.)


	2. Gunshot

**Author's Notes:** I'm going to post at least one a day. I know that this isn't my most popular story or whatnot, but I seriously love writing for these two. Plus, I'm just about to start rewatching season 5 of FMAB and we all know how emotional that gets.

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing. Nada.

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2\. Gunshot

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Contrary to popular belief, Riza's first time being shot is not during Ishval War, but actually two years after the fact while pinned down behind a car in Eastern. And it's completely embarrassing and something she hates to bring up. Here she is, the Hawk's Eye, and she gets shot by an idiot robber. Everyone that knows what's good for them never talks about it unless they want Riza to toss them out of the room by their ear, but even though no one mentions that moment, she can't forget it herself.

It was a cut and dry case. Someone called in a robbery at a bank. Mustang's unit, being the one on duty, was called to deal with the situation. After all, who would want to fight their way out of a bank robbery when the Flame Alchemist was outside the doors? The only problem was that it started raining as soon as they got there. Roy was a little more than put out, but experienced just as well in guns having been military trained. However, once they arrived, a hostage situation broke out and then the robbers started shooting at them.

"I hate shootouts," Roy muttered under his breath as they hunkered behind their car for cover.

"I think they're kind of fun," Havoc responded cheerfully, bouncing on his heels.

Riza blew out air, but said nothing. The truth was, while she was the most skilled in guns, she didn't particularly like them either. Shootouts were reckless. A stray bullet could wound just as effectively as a good shot. She almost wistfully glanced up at the windows in the building before them. What she wouldn't do to be perched up with a rifle in one of those rooms, a scope to examine the scene… Up there, she could take out everyone easily on her own. But the moment she tried going for the nearest door, bullets had ricocheted around her and she'd been forced back.

It was a bad situation. The initial report had said there were only two robbers, but there was another on the roof and one more in the car, leaving them pinned down instead of taking care of things. Riza gritted her teeth. Once they got out of this, she was going to wrangle whoever had given them incorrect information.

"We need to get around–" A flash of black behind Roy caught her attention. "Colonel, look out!"

Without thinking, Riza shot in the direction of the robber that had swung to the side of their car to shoot at them and grabbed Roy's collar with her free hand, jerking him down. Bullets flew past them. She and Havoc returned fire as Roy shouted from below her. She ignored him, jumping in front of him so that he couldn't be shot. All of it happened in a matter of seconds. The robber let out a shout and fell back as one of her shots made contact.

Riza turned, mouth open to ask if Roy and Havoc were okay, when a shot rang in the air. The next thing Riza knew, she was slamming into the ground, her shoulder burning and throbbing horribly.

"Lieutenant!"

Grunting in pain, Riza waved her hand, telling both men to stay behind the safety of the car, but she couldn't miss the pained expression on Roy's face. She'd only been clipped by the shooter on the bank roof and was now out of their sight, but her pride felt like it'd been dealt more damage than her shoulder. She pressed her lips together, both out of pain and anger, and forced herself to crawl awkwardly back to the car, keeping low to the ground so that she wouldn't be in sight of the sniper again.

When she got her hands on that man…

Roy reached out to pull her the rest of the way, nearly causing her to yelp, but just in time as a bullet hit the ground where she'd been seconds earlier. "Are you okay?" he demanded.

"Well, we know now that he's a terrible shot," Riza grumbled as she pressed her hand against the wound. Blood seeped out from between her fingers. Havoc handed her his jacket so that she could keep pressure against the gunshot wound and keep from bleeding out too much.

"You most certainly would not have missed," Roy pointed out, "so we can be glad that you're on our side." There was a dark glint in his eyes though that told her that these robbers would rue the day that they decided to rob a bank while Roy Mustang's unit was on duty. She hadn't seen that look in his eyes since the war whenever Kimblee would come around camp. "I can't believe you'd stand out in the open like that, Lieutenant."

Riza opened her mouth, but was completely dumbfounded. He was going to lecture her in the middle of a shootout after failing to take in his own surroundings and almost getting shot? She snapped her mouth shut and forced the blankest expression onto her face. The gunshot wound was painful, but it was nothing compared to the burns on her back. "It won't happen again, sir."

"Just because you have my back does not mean that you get to leave yours open."

Oh, these robbers were going to regret robbing this bank. And when she confronted the wannabe sniper that managed to shoot her, she was going to make sure that he never even thought about guns again. How could she have been so foolish to allow herself to get shot by an amateur? Unbelievable.

"Yes, sir," was all Riza could manage to grit out, doing her best not to glare at the rather smug look on her colonel's face. This was ridiculous, but at least they were evenly matched now.


	3. Battlefield

**Author's Notes:** Thank you for reading! Fair warning that these next few are sad, but the prompts weren't cheerful and I've got a million feelings about the Ishval War and how it affected everyone involved.

 **Disclaimer:** Not mine.

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3\. Battlefield

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When the smoke clears, Roy is finally able to see the destruction that his flames wrought and it takes every bit of strength in him not to double over and vomit on the spot. The smoke blows to the north, away from him, but even if he can't smell the charred bodies of the enemy, he can see them and that's enough to make anyone want to lose their lunch.

A superior officer claps him on the shoulder, nearly sending him to his already shaky knees. "Amazing! Simply amazing!" the man practically laughs.

Roy shoots his superior a dead-eyed glance, but says nothing in return. He locks his knees, shoves his fists into his pockets, and presses his lips into a thin line. Let them say whatever they want about his flame alchemy; as far as he's concerned, he's got nothing to say at all. The explosions and fires speak for themselves. A rogue fire catches his attention from the corners of his eyes. They'll let it burn all night like a warning sign to others.

"If you don't need me any further…"

"What an incredible soldier," the officer sighs, his eyes on the burned bodies, as Roy turns on his heels and leaves the scene.

As he walks back to camp, he glances down at his gloved hands. Roy knows that when the man says soldier, he actually means weapon. He's lost any illusions that he was brought to Ishval to do good. He was ordered here to raze hell. When he was young, he was so sure that fire helped create life, but now he knows that his flames are only meant to destroy. Was this what Riza Hawkeye entrusted him to do when she gave him the secrets to flame alchemy? Had his teacher been right all along?

Just as his thoughts turn to darker questions, Roy catches sight of the young woman on his mind and barely stops himself from flinching. Even now, it's still jarring to see Riza in the desert of Ishval wearing a military uniform and a sniper rifle slung over her shoulder. He keeps seeing flashes of the girl that ran around the Hawkeye Estate, her shy smiles and sneaky laughs, but her eyes are heavy and there's a rigidness to her movements that he remembers from when he first saw her. Was she destined to be the trained killer she is now even then?

"Major," Riza greets when he steps next to her, giving him a salute. She's only a cadet, but her incredible sharp shooting skills at the academy were enough to send her right onto the battlefield. He looks at her rifle and wonders how many people she has viewed in the scope and killed on the spot. How many people has he killed? The difference is that she undoubtedly knows the answer to her question while he can hide in a state of ambiguity.

"How…?" The question dies on his lips. They were in the middle of a war, right on the front lines, and he was going to ask her how she was doing today. What an idiot he was sometimes.

If she knows what he was going to ask, she doesn't comment on it and instead holds out her canteen. "You look like you could use some water, sir."

"I…yes, that would be nice. Thank you." Roy takes the canteen from her and takes a healthy swig. All the water here tastes like it has sand in it, but he doesn't care. Standing so close to flames in this heat would get the best of anyone, even the person wielding those flames. As he gives her canteen back, he nods his head in the direction of the ravaged city. "Are you heading back out today?"

Riza looks down as she screws the lid back on the canteen. She does that when she's embarrassed – looks down and focuses on something trivial – but he knows it's more like shame now. War changes a lot of things about a person. "Yes," she says quietly.

Roy reaches out and squeezes her shoulder. She gives him an almost startled look. It's not much, but it's something and it's all he can give her out here in this unforgiving battlefield. "Be careful."

"I'm never in the line of fire anyways," she points out.

"Still, I'd like for you to watch out for yourself as well," Roy tells her. Because, if anything were to happen to her, he's not quite sure how he would handle that. He almost tells her that he wishes she had never joined the military, that he blames himself for inspiring her somehow to join him, but he knows without a doubt that many lives have been saved because of her, his life included, and he can't shame her for that. This is not just his war; this is not just his life.


	4. Grave

**Author's Notes:** Thank you all for the follows! Also, this one was probably one of the more upsetting things I've written, despite its short length. Oops.

 **Disclaimer:** None of this is mine. Would I be this cruel? (Maybe.)

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4\. Grave

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"I know that I don't come to visit very often. Truth is, I…I don't really know what to say half the time. It's not like we talked a lot when you were…"

A short sigh, more like a release of frustration.

"The times that we did though meant a lot to me. I'm not sure you knew that or not. I wasn't… I've never… The Colonel says that I'm bad about hiding how I feel from everyone." A bark of a laugh. "There was a time when I wasn't so transparent to him, if you can believe it. Seems like ages ago…"

There's a pause. The wind blows brown leaves around. The sky is darkened with clouds, threatening rain. It never seems to shine during a visit here, as if the sun can't bear to show its face in a place like this.

"I'm looking out for him, of course, but with you gone, I feel like I'm pulling double duty. He's grown reckless. I'd forgotten how he gets when he's truly upset: he's so _angry_. Like I don't know that he wracked with guilt and devastated by what happened. Like he's not allowed to show grief. But then…maybe we aren't, not after what we did in Ishval."

A sad smile. It seems out of place, especially after bringing up Ishval, but it's there, however small it is.

"I was always so amazed at how…happy you could be after everything that happened. I think we both still feel guilty over having any sort of true happiness – maybe we starve ourselves of it on purpose – but you reveled in it. You accepted it. And if anyone deserved to be happy, it was you. I never knew if I should feel jealous or not that you could have the life that I never could, but I couldn't. That was the life you chose. This was the life I chose. I couldn't fault you for having what I wanted deep down but refused to have."

A drop of rain hits the grass. A few more follow after, but it's a slow start.

"I just wanted you to know that I won't let you down. I will do whatever is in my power to ensure that the Colonel's goals are fulfilled and your work to save the country is completed. Maybe then I can try to have the life you and Gracia always wanted for me – for…for us."

With a salute, Riza turns on her heels and walks away from Maes Hughes' tombstone. The rain picks up a little more, but she ignores it, picking up Black Hayate and snuggling her face against the dog's fur. She doesn't look back at the grave. She made a promise, to Roy, to herself, to Hughes, and she intends to keep it, even if it means that she might follow the man into the grave one day doing so. That's the price she might have to pay and one she is willing to take for her Colonel.


	5. Heiki (Weapon) & Heiki (Fine)

**Author's Notes:** Ah, yes, thank you, **ssadropout**! That's exactly how I feel about the Ishval War and their involvement in it, especially Roy. And I LOVE ROY. Like, absolutely love him, so it crushes me to think that about him. You can tell that he wants to do anything he can to fix what he did, but maybe there is nothing. It's so sad. Here's some more Ishval feels.

 **Disclaimer:** Not mine. Even sadder.

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5\. Heiki (weapon) & Heiki (fine)

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To Cadet Riza Hawkeye, her weapon sits heavily in her hands. Whether it is a simple handgun or a rifle, the weight of the gun serves as a reminder of what she is capable of doing, of who she is, of the consequences of the life she chose. She can never forget what she is when she aims a gun. In this unforgiving world, it is a part of her just as much as her heart, and she must accept that or lay down to die.

They say that the hardest part about being a soldier is taking someone's life and she can't fault them there. When she lies in a sniper's perch, shrouded in darkness, peering through the scope of her rifle, she knows that her only job, her true job, is to kill. She can say that she's doing this to save lives, to protect her fellow soldiers, but she will never shoot to wound. She will only ever shoot to kill. Everything else is a guise for the cold truth.

But maybe the most difficult part is to know when not to shoot. They don't teach you that at the Academy. It was only ever to aim, breathe, and fire. They do not teach you forgiveness in the military; they do not tell you to hold back; they do not point out that there are times when killing isn't the best option. This is war. Killing is the only option, especially for a sniper. How proud were her superiors when they saw her talent firsthand before shipping her off to Ishval before she even graduated?

And so the times she forces herself to hold back are painful, because those are the times when she's reminded the most of what she's doing and more importantly who she is. Her weapon is a means of killing, but she is the one activating it. When she spots a rebel in her sights, their life sits in her hands. If she squeezes the trigger just a hair more, their life is over. If she sweeps over to the next person, they might just live another day. But what will they do with the life that she has spared? What consequences will be wrought?

Very few people that she settles her sights on survive.

To Major Roy Mustang, his only weapon is himself. He becomes the gun. The gloves he wears to help create sparks are nothing compared to the guns that the Cadet wields. The flames and explosions he causes are what cause the pain, but he is the one that brings them. Without him, there would be no flames. He is fire alchemy in the flesh. He is destruction. He is death.

It is not poetic.

When he was given the secrets to flame alchemy, all he wanted to do was protect the people he cared about. He wanted to bring change. He wanted to bring glory. He wanted to bring knowledge and light. Instead, with a twist of his fingers, fire explodes in the air and all he brings are horrific screams and charred ruins. He must steel himself every time and it takes everything in him not to close his eyes as he did when he first came to Ishval.

This is not what he wanted. The flames rise higher. This is not what he dreamed about. The moans and cries pitch in the air. Was he only meant for murder in the end? He can't imagine that this is anything but that. These people are helpless. Shouldn't he be helping them instead of hurting them? He never once dirties his hands, always standing on the edge of the battlefield when he snaps his flames to precision, but he feels as if he's bathed in the blood of the Ishval people.

This was not what Riza Hawkeye would have thought was to come of the dreams he told her about at her father's funeral. He wasn't supposed to be a weapon. He was supposed to be a great man. His new name tastes bitter on his tongue, the Hero of Isvhal, and reminds him of the ashes that follow in the wake of his dying flames.

They had been children. They had been innocent at one time. They had been foolish. What fine weapons this war has made of them indeed.


	6. Death

**Author's Notes:** For a topic so depressing, I decided to go a little lighter, which was probably a good idea since my original plan was going to be dark as hell.

 **Disclaimer:** Day 108, still not mine.

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6\. Death

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Riza doesn't find out that Roy is an orphan until eight months into his apprenticeship.

The first two months, she went out of her way to avoid her father's new study, cooking him food and cleaning whenever he isn't around, hiding in her bedroom to finish her own schoolwork, and then traipsing to school before first light. Both of them seemed a little shocked when they accidentally bumped into each other one day when she came home from school. He nearly choked on an apple after knocking her on her behind.

After sheepish apologies and awkward conversation while having difficulty meeting each other's eyes, they moved into a different stage. The next few months were spent slowly learning how to live with each other. Riza could barely remember living with her family as a whole, so it had always just been her and her dad more or less, and it was like the man sometimes forgot that he had a daughter with his alchemy work to keep him occupied. She had been on her own for what felt like her entire life. Roy, on the other hand, apparently had a great deal of sisters and was from a very busy and loud household. He wasn't so used to the quiet that seeped over the Hawkeye Estate.

And so both of them had to relearn a few things about living with others. Roy learned how to be quiet and that silence wasn't always a bad thing. Riza learned to open up and accept the presence of another person in the room and not just a lamp. She didn't realize how jittery she'd been around him until those months. Her father had had apprentices before, but none like Roy Mustang, who actually seemed pleasant and…fun. He was an idealistic kid with a lot of big dreams. What it must be like to dream…

Having breakfast before she went off to school became something of a norm. He started to help her clean around the house. She'd do her homework in the library with him while he did his studies and he'd even take a break to help her out every now and then. He read in the kitchen while she cooked dinner (because his few attempts to help cook were disastrous). Sometimes, they'd sneak off outside, take walks in the woods surrounding the house, do some gardening, swim in the pond on particularly hot days, if he could get out of studying for a moment.

On one day, when Roy deems his brain hurt too much from reading and his teacher was out of town on a business trip, they go fishing. It isn't too hot, but she still brought a floppy hat to wear to keep from being burned. Roy stubbornly refused anything, something she knows he will regret later if they stay out too long in the sun.

They're sitting at the edge of the dock, bare feet dangling just above the water, fishing lines in the water, and a comfortable silence hanging over them when something occurs to Riza. "You haven't gone to visit your home yet since you started your apprenticeship with my father," she says. "Don't you miss your parents?"

When she looks over to him, she's caught off guard by the slightly uncomfortable look on Roy's face. He looks guarded, his brow furrowed a little, biting his lip and looking to the side. "Ah, my parents…" He fiddles with his fishing rod for a moment, but then stops and lets out a breath. "My parents died years ago."

"Oh." Riza flushes and ducks her head so that her hat covers her face. The water looks mighty tempting at this moment to her. She could just slide off this dock and hide under the water, maybe never come up for air again. It doesn't really bother her at all whenever her mother is brought up, however rare that it is, since she can barely remember the woman. Roy was warned about his master's wife's death before coming, so that he wouldn't say something foolish, but she was never… She'd never been told… Does her father even know?

"It was a car crash. It was raining heavily; they missed a turn and went off the road. I was six." The entire time, Roy doesn't look up from where he's staring at the pond, like he's rattling off a line that he's memorized to recite on the spot should he ever be asked the prompting question. Riza didn't ask though, just as he's never asked about her mother. "My Aunt Chris adopted me. All my sisters that I talk about… They aren't really my sisters, just girls that work for my aunt and live with us."

"It's nice that you have other family to look out for you," Riza says gently, not sure what else she is supposed to say. Maybe this is how people felt whenever they found out that her mother had died. People from the State Alchemist program that came to harass her father from time to time always looked so awkward about it.

Roy barks out a laugh, startling Riza and making her jump. "Yeah, Aunt Chris is…nice." He finally looks over at her, looking slightly abashed. "She's taken really good care of me though. I don't know where I'd be without her. Not here, at least."

"I don't know about that. You've got a lot of inborn talent that can't be ignored." Riza smiles at the way that Roy's cheeks turn a little pink. He doesn't get embarrassed very often, seemingly taking joy out of causing her and any other girl to blush, so it's amusing when the tables are turned. Her smile fades though when she thinks of other things and glances down at her dangling feet. "Do you remember them?"

The pink tinge fades from his cheeks as he nods his head. "Some, yeah, but it gets foggier with every year. I know more thanks to my aunt."

"I don't…" Riza chews on the inside of her cheek and then huffs. "My father never talks about my mother. He hid every picture of her after she died and put away all her things. Sometimes, it's like she didn't even exist. I can barely remember her face, but I've been told that I look like her." When Roy looks close to apologizing, she shakes her head at him. "It's fine – hard to be sad about someone I don't even know."

Silence falls over them again. The wind blows a little, whistling in their ears, and a few dragonflies buzz around the top of the still pond water. No fish seem to be biting today, but that matters little to them as they gaze out into the pond.

Roy sets his pole down on the dock and leans back so that his face is in the sun, eyes closed and hands pressed down on the wood behind him. "Ah, look at us, a couple of kids with dead parents. What a sorry sight we must look like to people." When Riza gives him a questioning look, he opens one eye to peer at her. "I miss them, but I do hate it when people pity me for it."

She nods her head. "Agreed."

"Then don't feel so bad for bringing it up," Roy tells her. "I can feel you simmering in guilt and humiliation. It's worse than the sun."

This time, Riza is the one to flush and a lazy grin crosses Roy's face. She doesn't feel the slightest bit of guilt when she pushes him off balance and he falls right into the pond, yelping and splashing around in the cold water.


	7. Crime & Punishment

**Author's Notes:** I've written so many of these prompt drabbles that it's going to my head a little. On the bright side, I'm super ahead on the list, so I can update regularly. I was just a bit slower this weekend because of the two 12 hour shifts I had to suffer through and then getting sick. As always, thank you for reading!

 **Disclaimer:** Nope. Not mine.

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7\. Crime and Punishment

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Riza knew that when she told Edward about the Colonel's plans that he would be shocked. The man's goals would be a shock to the system to anyone that hadn't served during the Ishval War and maybe even then. No one would want to willingly put themselves in the position to be punished for something they were ordered to do, and yet that was at the heart of what the Colonel's ideas were about. They'd all committed horrendous crimes during the Ishval War and they had received glory, commendations, and promotions because of them.

After all, the Hero of Ishval in Armestris was the Murderer of Ishvalans to those few hiding in slums. The Hawk's Eye might not be as well-known to the survivors of the extermination, but she'd had the luxury of being able to hide from the view of her scope whereas Roy had been on the frontlines. His face was burned in the memory of the survivors. Scar had been a testament to that.

"He'll understand one day," was all that Roy could offer when she mentioned that she'd spoken to Edward about the War. Very few people wanted to talk about it these days, preferring to leave it in the past as if it didn't even exist anymore. Maybe if they ignored it long enough, it would go away. Some of the soldiers could do that – a lot of the higher ups seemed particularly skilled at it – but no State Alchemist involved could deny their handiwork. Only a handful had joined with the intentions of being used by the military as a weapon. Alchemists like Kimblee and Basque were little more than weapons, after all.

For however dangerous and volatile Roy's alchemy was, she knew that he hadn't set out to be a weapon to be wielded by the military. That was the nature of their job though. They didn't always get to do what they wanted. Instead of the research that many State Alchemists pursued upon getting their silver pocket watch, Roy jumped headfirst in the military and she followed in his shadow. Rising to the top had never been her intention. The end of Roy's goals though, however daunting they were when she forced herself to think about them, was her own means to an end.

Do the crime, face the time. It was as simple as that. And she had committed her fair share of crimes, even if they had been stamped by the approval of the government. She must do her duty to carry those across the river of blood that she had helped create. She was stained with blood; if she could help ensure that others weren't, she would do everything in her power.

"Are you ever afraid of what will happen when you complete your goals, Colonel?" Riza couldn't help but ask one day. It was a day unlike any other, before all the sneaking and plotting, before the Homonculi, before they could've known just how dangerous their paths would become should they stay the course. And it was a silly question, one she'd never thought to ask before, if only because she knew that she deserved whatever happened to her. It only occurred to her that these plans might hurt the man she was sworn to protect.

Roy ducked his head underneath his military cap. "Am I allowed to be afraid of such things, Lieutenant?"

"Perhaps, perhaps not," Riza answered, "but we're still only human in the end. Rules can't dictate emotion."

He smirked slightly, the twist of his lips visible despite his eyes being shadowed, but she had a feeling that she knew what was glowing dimly in his eyes right now. For herself, she didn't blink or look away from her superior commander. He wasn't the same anymore, not the boy she knew or the young man she kept an eye on in Ishval, but he would always be Roy Mustang at his core. He could hide, play the game, and everything in between, but not from her.

"Are you giving me leave to fear what I deserve?" Roy looked her in the eyes. "If so, then you have it as well."

"Only one of us is allowed that, sir," Riza said firmly.

Roy hummed. "Hardly seems fair."

"I will accept whatever comes." Even if that meant being punished. Riza had always been a strict follower of the rules whereas Roy had liked to bend them. It only made sense that she would be punished for doing just that. "I don't think I have the luxury of being afraid."

"Well then, I'm not about to let my subordinate upstage me," Roy said with a callous laugh. He folded his hands behind his back and continued walking on the sidewalk. There was a strange bit of mirth lighting up his eyes, but it wasn't humorous or warm, that smirk still on his face. Riza looked ahead at the military building they were walking towards. She would accept whatever came her way without blinking. She always had.


	8. Store-Lined Streets

**Author's Notes:** This one is a bit cheesier than the others, but I couldn't help myself. It's still not entirely happy either. I just love the idea of these two indirectly talking about one another.

 **Disclaimer:** Nope, not mine.

* * *

 _8\. Store-Lined Streets_

* * *

Roy sighed as he bent to crouch. "Why can't all soldiers be like you, hm? You know when to listen at least."

In response, Black Hayate barked in what Roy could only describe as a cheerful manner. There even seemed to be a grin on the black and white dog's face. He grinned back in response and reached out to rub the top of the dog's head. Hayate nuzzled into the palm of Roy's hand and let his tongue loll out of the side of his mouth.

"You sure you don't want to step into more of a leadership position, Lieutenant?" Roy asked as he stood up straight again. He cast his subordinate a glance out of the corner of his eyes. "You seem to do a pretty good shop at shaping people up. You won't even let me take a minute off to slack and Black Hayate is in better shape than most officers."

"He's a dog, sir," his Lieutenant pointed out in a deadpan, "and as are you."

Roy huffed. "You would insult your superior?"

"Merely stating that you're a Dog of the Military," she said mildly. Ah, that pesky nickname for State Alchemists always dug at him a little. It was the term his old teacher used to say whenever he muttered about the government using alchemy in their ranks, one that especially rankled him after the War, if only because it had been true. Still, he knew that she wasn't trying to insult him. "Or it could be your way with women."

"Wha–!" This time, Roy stopped in his tracks and folded his arms across his chest. Now she was insulting him. Really, the woman could be quite impossible at times. "I'll have you know – I am nothing but a gentleman to women." The quirk of her eyebrow told him that she either didn't quite believe him or she was teasing him. He couldn't always tell the difference. "If I wasn't a gentleman, would I be escorting you back home after your car battery died? I had a date tonight actually, but I cancelled it so that you wouldn't have to walk five miles alone."

A strange look flitted across her face. Her eyes darted away from him as she looked down to fiddler with the dog's leash even though she had no need to do so. If he hadn't been looking her so intently in the face to see whether she was teasing him or not, he would've missed it. But it vanished just as quickly. "You didn't have to do that, sir. I'm not exactly alone and I can handle myself."

"Not the point," Roy said, pushing through what he suddenly realized might be awkward territory. There was a reason he usually kept his dates to himself, even if half of them were more or less a front, but it had something to do with his Lieutenant and something else that didn't want to think about. Maybe it had to do with the fact that he rarely went on third dates.

And maybe this wasn't a good idea after all. She was more than capable of taking care of herself. Besides, it wasn't like Eastern was a dangerous place. It was relatively quiet. Not a lot went on out here. It'd be different once he was transferred to Central. But she didn't really need an escort back home, especially not when she was technically his bodyguard.

Nonetheless, a stubborn streak ran in him and Roy was relentless if nothing else, even when all signs told him to stop. "If I wasn't a gentleman, then I wouldn't offer to buy a pretty woman something from that jewelry shop," he said, pointing to the store they were walking passed.

It was dark outside and the streets were only illuminated by a few street lamps here and there and lights spilling out from the few shops that were still open, but he could've sworn that she actually blushed. How long had it been since he'd seen her blush? "I don't think jewelry is an appropriate gift to give your adjutant," she damn near whispered, eyes trained on the dog prancing in front of them.

"If I wasn't a gentleman," Roy continued, knowing full well that he was digging his own grave for a reason he couldn't quite understand, "then I wouldn't take her to that nice restaurant next door, the one I know she really likes but doesn't go there often because it's expensive."

Still, she wouldn't look at him and he wouldn't look away. Now that he'd dug the hole, he might as well jump headfirst into it. Black Hayate didn't seem to feel the tension crackling in the air that hadn't been there moments ago, but he could feel it like a fire was burning under his feet to get him moving. It'd been years since he was this bold, to the point where it felt more like a foggy daydream, but he could just remember walking through town at night, hands brushing against one another like a forethought, hazy smiles, and blushes in the night light. So much time had passed since then that he sometimes wondered if those moments had really happened.

It was too much, far too much for either of them to handle. She looked like she either wanted to stop walking altogether or run until she was out of his sight. He could almost hear her fighting herself in her head. He had to end her suffering.

Roy painted a smirk on his face. "If I wasn't a gentleman, I wouldn't take her to that chic clothing store and buy her the most expensive and tightest miniskirt available."

All the air seemed to flow out of Riza. Her stiff shoulders dropped; her grip on the dog leash loosened; and she stood up straighter, like everything was weighing down on her. "How thoughtful of you, sir," she managed in a clipped tone, but he could still hear the vestiges of embarrassment. Or maybe it was shame. He couldn't tell. She was so good at hiding how she felt. He'd always been terrible at it, but somehow, under the tutorship of a new mentor, he was getting better. At least with everyone but her. He was going to have to work on that.

They continued to walk down the store-lined street to her apartment in silence, but Roy couldn't help but feel like something small had shifted between him and Riza, something he wasn't entirely sure of but was intrigued about nonetheless. He may have been a Dog of the Military, but he was still curious as ever.


	9. Unknown Past - Before We Know Each Other

**Author's Notes:** I feel like Roy's parents and Riza's mother aren't talked about enough, so here you go.

* * *

 _9\. Unknown Past/Before We Know Each Other_

* * *

Was there a time when Roy didn't know Riza or when she didn't know him? Surely there was, but for the life of him, sometimes, he forgets. He looks at her and sees a woman that was always meant to be in his life, standing just slightly behind him, the silent support he's still not sure he deserves. Hasn't she always been his shadow? From the young girl that peered from around the corner at her father's new apprentice, to the indistinct figure in a window holding a sniper rifle, to his personal adjutant ready to follow whatever order he gives. Hasn't she always been in his life?

But then he remembers his parents' faces, just barely. His father picking him up from school, his mother trying to smooth his unruly hair down that he inherited from her, board games and listening to the radio. He told them that he wanted to learn alchemy, right? He told them of his dreams to become a State Alchemist, hadn't he?

( _Picture a six year-old boy, a black mop of hair and dark eyes, trying to read books years ahead of him instead of the schoolwork he's supposed to be working on. He never looks away, already so intense in his desire to learn, to be something, that he doesn't hear when the door opens and someone steps into the room._

 _"_ _And just what are you doing, young mister?" his mother asks, hands planted on her hips. He looks up, ready to be scolded and with excuses on his lips, when he catches the bright beam on her face. "Your father told me what you got from the library."_

 _He smiles a bit shyly. "You're not mad?"_

 _"_ _Why would I be mad?" His mother is a petite woman with long black hair and dark eyes, just like him. They don't look like anyone else in town. He looks nothing like his father, but the man has never complained, especially not since he says that his wife is the most beautiful woman in Central. She bends down and picks up one of the books he borrowed, flickering through the pages. "If only there was a way you could learn alkahestry…"_

 _"_ _What's that? Is it like alchemy?"_

 _His mother smiles at him again, setting the book back down on the pile and ruffling his hair. "It's nothing, dear, just an old woman's dreams."_

 _"_ _You're not old!" he laughs as he shoves her hand away. By then, her hand has moved and she's tickling him. He drops the book and falls over as the two of them play-fight, his reading forgotten in a matter of seconds. Minutes later, he's close to dozing off on the floor, and his mother carefully puts the books away and gathers him for bed._

 _"_ _Such a smart boy," she sighs while closing the door to his bedroom. "Such a smart…"_ )

For Riza, she has little no memories of her late mother, only the impressions of emotions in her mind. She thinks that her mother was kind, but a hard woman as well, as anyone married to Berthold Hawkeye had to be. She never talked about her life before her marriage as far as Riza knows, as if she didn't have one. It reminds her in a way of her life with Roy. Her mother's face is a golden fog, and she's sure there are smiles and warm touches and it's bright, but she remembers little else.

Her mother died in the hospital. The last memory Riza has of the woman is visiting her there. She was so weak, lying in bed, a scarf covering her head. She had bright blonde hair, didn't she? And amber brown eyes too. People always said that she looked like her mother.

( _"You take care of him, Riza," the woman says in a tired voice from the bed. Her eyes are closed. She looks as if she hasn't slept in years. Can someone stay awake for that long? Can someone fight for that long? "You're so much stronger than you know."_

 _She doesn't understand why her mother has to leave. Yes, this is her mother, isn't it? She's so thin under the sheets, her bony hand limp in her daughter's small one. Their wrists are nearly the same size. The sickness has done too much damage. Her father's alchemy was useless in the end. He's not in the room with them. She doesn't know where he is. He's probably home. She walked here on her own._

 _"_ _Please…don't let yourself be alone. I…" The woman takes a wheezy breath and tears leak out from her closed eyelids. "I hate to leave you like this, with your father like that. You know I wouldn't… Don't hide yourself from others. Let people in. For me. Will you, my little Riza?"_

 _She wants to say so many things, a thousand pleas on the tip of her tongue, but they stick to the roof of her mouth like peanut butter. The woman's grip is so weak. She doesn't even look at her anymore. They don't look alike now that she's like this. This is her mother though, is it not? Didn't she used to be strong and so full of life? What had happened? Where was her father? What was going to happen?_

 _She lets go of her mother's hand as she falls into a fitful sleep and her own hand drops to her side._ )

Nearly forgotten memories, buried so deep even they forget them sometimes, and yet it's as if those moments in time dug into their very souls. She hardened herself away from others, just as her mother wished she wouldn't, but then there was Roy and somehow she'd allowed herself to open up to him. In time, that helped her open up to others, like Rebecca and Jean, but without him and his dream to learn alchemy, to become the greatest alchemist there was, she wouldn't have fulfilled her mother's hopes at all.

And so it seems, even though there are years spread in their lives when they didn't know one another, it feels like no time at all.


	10. Promise

**Author's Notes:** Thanks again for reading. No worries about me slowing down either - I'm already on prompt 25.

* * *

 _10\. Promise_

* * *

The train whistle blew sharply behind Roy, causing him to wince. Being reminded that he was about to head off to the Military Academy was not something that he relished, despite the fact that it had been solely his choice to join in the first place. Master Hawkeye wasn't pleased and didn't come to the station to see off his last apprentice, refusing to even say goodbye or acknowledge him altogether. To say that it didn't wound him a little would've been a lie, but it was something he'd expected and prepared himself for. His teacher's hatred towards the military was well-known, so it was rather ironic that his one seemingly good apprentice came up with the idea to join all on his own.

At least he wasn't alone though. Riza had come into town with him. They'd both gotten up early, although somehow she still managed to beat him and have breakfast nearly done by the time he was downstairs. She looked nice in a soft blue dress that fit her snugly and her bright blond hair more of a bob from the time she'd let it grow out, but when she smiled at him, it was sad and she'd used make up trying to hide the fact that she hadn't slept well the night before. He hadn't commented on those things, only thanked her for the last meal that her father would've most likely tried to deny if the man ever cooked, but a pang in his chest made him wonder if maybe he'd made a mistake.

When the whistle blew again, Roy glanced back at the train, but still didn't make a move to pick up his suitcases. He had more things leaving than when he'd first arrived, though he couldn't help but feel as if he was still leaving too much behind.

"You should probably get on the train before you miss it," Riza pointed out mildly. Little was betrayed in her voice and he couldn't help but think that she was already too good at hiding how she felt. She slipped back into it every now and then, but he'd thought that they had worked past that. Maybe his leaving brought it up again. Just one more thing to feel guilty about, he supposed. "The next train won't come for another day."

"Ah, I doubt your father would be pleased if I came back begging to stay one more night with my tail tucked between my legs," Roy sighed. The mental image of Berthold Hawkeye practically throwing him out on his butt when he had first showed up pleading to be taken on as his apprentice came to mind.

Riza smiled, but it was that same sad smile again. "I'd sneak you in without him even knowing."

"Oh, really?" Roy waggled his eyebrows. "And let me hide out in your bedroom, perhaps?"

When Riza laughed, it sounded a little more honest than her smile, but it was still tight, like she didn't know what she might do if she didn't control herself, like the laugh might turn into a choking sob. She shoved him, meaning nothing of it, but the physical contact started a thumping in his chest and he gently grabbed her wrists. Both the smile and the laughter faded from her face as she connected eyes with him.

"You'll write me, won't you?" Roy blushed despite himself at the way her eyes widened a little and ducked his eyes to look down at her hands. He wanted to slide his own from her wrists so that he could hold her hands, but that seemed far too intimate when they were in such a public area. "You don't have to, if you don't want to. I can see why you wouldn't. It's just that, well, I won't know anyone and I've grown a bit used to" – _being with you_ – "not being on my own."

The thought that popped into his head was intrusive but startlingly true. It had been different in the city when he was around so many people, but for the past few years, it had mostly just been the three of him. Riza's presence had been a constant and now it was being ripped away from him.

"Of course I will." Her voice was so soft that it made him quickly look up at her, but she was the one gazing down at their hands this time. If he didn't know any better, he would've said that she was close to tears, but in all the times he'd known her, he had only see her cry once. "I'll write you at least once a week. I promise."

A strange heaviness that Roy didn't even know was there seemed to leave his chest and he felt like he was able to breathe better. Those letters wouldn't be much, but they'd remind him of whatever they'd built here, just as the letters from his sisters reminded him of home. Riza was just as much a part of his life now as they were and she always would be, even if the letters stopped one day.

"I'll miss you," Riza said in a tight voice. "I bet you'll forget about me once you've become a big shot in the military, but I hope you won't."

"I wouldn't dare," Roy swore firmly, moving to grab her hands and squeeze them. She looked up at him, her brown eyes pained and her lips twisted so that they wouldn't tremble. He could see that now. This girl was going to make him end up crying on the train ride at this point. "I'll come see you again when I have the chance. I promise, Riza. I _promise_."

After hugging her tightly, Roy took his belongings and stepped onto the train. He quickly sat down so that he could look out the window and wave to her. She wasn't crying and he didn't know if she would cry even after the train left the station. All he knew was that he couldn't wait for her first letter to arrive or maybe he'd write to her first. He'd never forget her, not in a million lifetimes. That much he swore to himself.


	11. Liar

**Author's Notes:** This is one of my favorite things that I have ever written, no lie. It's not often that I get to write about Maes Hughes and it's actually happy, so this was a good laugh for me. Hughes only wants to best for his best friend, really!

11\. Liar

Roy grinned at the pretty brunette after he left her giggling at the bar. He didn't need to look back at her to know that she was sneaking glances at him in between talking with her friends. That was just enough to keep him damn near swaggering as he returned to his table with Maes.

His friend was already shaking his head by the time Roy set his beer down on the table. "One of these days, Roy, your flirting will go a little too far and you won't know what to do with yourself."

"I'm not like you, Maes," Roy pointed out as he sat down on a stool.

"The settling down and having a family type?"

Roy tipped his glass in Maes' direction. "The having a relationship type."

Maes sighed and took a swig of his drink. The Flame Alchemist could only be described as impossible and befuddling at best, according to Maes, but Roy waved it off every time things like this were brought up. "At this rate, you're going to run out of pretty women to date."

"There's always a beautiful lady when I'm about," Roy replied with a laugh.

He meant it as a joke, of course, nothing to it, but Maes wore something of a contemplative look for a second that Roy didn't particularly like. When that contemplative look took on a sneaky gleam in his eyes, Roy really didn't like it, not the way a smile spread onto his friend's face or the way the bar light reflected off of his glasses in that spooky way seemingly whenever he got an idea in his head.

"So how is First Lieutenant Hawkeye doing?" Maes asked in a suspiciously disinterested tone. For a man that was working in intelligence, he really needed to stop being so transparent when he was trying to get information or beat around the bush.

"She's doing fine, as far as I know," Roy responded, a little more tersely than he'd intended. "Working me ragged. I'd forgotten how little she tolerated procrastination." At that, Roy almost winced. He and his adjutant very rarely brought up their past history together, especially when in the company of others, to the point where few, if any, knew just how close they had been. "She likes Eastern well enough, I suppose."

"Is _she_ seeing anyone?"

At that, Roy actually choked on his beer and had to set his glass down again. There was still that disinterested look on Maes' face, but Roy could see the amused look in the man's eyes. "You know, I don't know. I try not to pry into my subordinates' personal lives." Well, that wasn't exactly true. Havoc talked about his dating life as if it were a daytime talk show sometimes and it didn't help that they'd dated a few of the same women. The Flame Alchemist was just too irresistible.

"Well, if she's _not_ – she and Gracia actually have lunch every now and then – Gracia has really been wanting to set her up with a friend of ours. He's a banker – a really nice gentleman."

 _If he's so nice, then why isn't he taken already?_ The words popped into his head before he could even think about it, nearly coming out of his already open mouth. He just barely kept them in his head. That had sounded dangerously close to bitter and irritated.

Instead, Roy swirled his beer around and looked down into the glass, trying to appear completely unconcerned with the route this conversation had taken him. "I doubt she has time to date anyways," he said. Damnit, he sounded so tense. This shouldn't be bothering him at all. Maybe Riza did want to date someone. She never brought it up at work, though he could never see her bringing up something so personal. Wait. What if she was already dating someone and he didn't know? He should really know that about the woman that was supposed to guarding his back, right? "All she seems to have time for is work and her dog. She's more career-oriented. She doesn't do much of anything else."

"You sure you're not the one working her ragged so she doesn't have time to date?"

If Roy had been able to force any of his beer down, he probably would've spewed it all over the other man at this point. "What? What exactly are you trying to imply?" Holy hell, had his voice ever been so high pitched? He really needed to learn how to control himself. But what was Maes trying to insinuate? That he didn't want Riza to date anyone? She could date if she wanted to; she just never seemed interested in anyone. Not that he'd know because he didn't ask… Maybe he should ask.

Maes smiled, but it looked more like a predator's smile when its prey was caught in a trap. Roy narrowed his eyes at the man. He was not anyone's prey, least of all the prey of an idiot that swooned any time someone even mentioned anything close to the subject of his wife.

"I'm not implying anything," Maes said in an insufferably earnest tone. "I'm merely making an observation. You refuse to go on a third date with anyone, even if the girl is seemingly perfect. The Lieutenant doesn't seem to be interested in anyone but yourself. Then there's the looks you give her when you think no one is looking." This man… Roy was going to murder him. Where were his gloves? "Both of you are so touchy about one another."

That stopped Roy cold. "Both…of us?"

"Oh, man, you should see how red Lieutenant Hawkeye turns whenever Gracia brings you up! Gracia seems to believe that you two are stuck in some sort of tragic love story. I've tried telling her – Roy Mustang and love do not mix – but from what she says, anyone could get the impression that you and your lieutenant have denied yourselves each other's love in order to complete your goals for the future and atone for your sins." Maes sniffed. The man actually sniffed as if he was close to crying. He was so melodramatic when it came to love, as if the very idea of some ill-fated love story was enough to bring him to tears. "It's all quite sad, really."

"That's…" Roy didn't know what to say. Did Maes and Gracia actually talk about this? Had Gracia actually talked to Riza about _him_? And she blushed at the thought of him? Roy could barely remember the last time he'd seen her blush, not since they were teenagers and that had been so long ago that it couldn't… She couldn't… He forced himself to drain the rest of his beer to sooth his dry mouth. "That's preposterous."

"I don't know," Maes said. The sniffing was gone. In its place was an all-too-knowing smile. "I kind of think you're lying, myself."

"Lying? _Lying_? About my heartbreaking and undying love for my adjutant? That I sabotage any relationship I might have because I'm in love with her but can't be with her? That she selflessly focuses on her job and our work because…because it's the right thing to do but not what her heart wants? That we both love each other but can't admit it because we think we don't deserve a happy ending?"

Maes said nothing, which was as well seeing as how Roy was doing all the talking. He clamped his mouth shut, staring at his friend and his smile, a smile that said he'd gotten exactly what he wanted. Roy slumped down in his seat, feeling like he'd just run a race, except his brain was still firing in a whole new direction. He couldn't believe that he'd just blurted all of that out loud. He'd only had two beers. How drunk could he be?

"This is ridiculous, stupid. I don't…" Roy pushed himself away from the table so that he could stand up. Despite only two beers, he felt a bit dizzy. How had that all come out of his mouth? Or had he been thinking it all along and just needed the push to get it out in the open even for himself? Had he really been lying to himself like that, to her? "I need another drink."

This time, when he went to the bar, Roy didn't even look in the direction of the pretty brunette trying to get his attention. Damn, Maes Hughes. Maybe he was a lot better at getting information than Roy had originally thought.


	12. Proof

**Author's Notes:** Thanks to everyone reading! I had a lot of fun writing this one as well. It was high time our favorite short alchemist and the purest of cinnamon rolls made their appearances.

* * *

 _12\. Proof_

* * *

"Brother, I'm not sure this is such a good idea…"

"This is a great idea!"

"He's our superior officer though…"

"No, he's a right pain in the ass! That's what he is!"

If Alphonse could've bit his lip, that was probably what he would've done. Since he couldn't do that, he settled for sighing and allowing his shoulders to slump. His older brother was stubborn if nothing else, especially when it came to the Colonel, but this time, his near maniacal loathing of their superior was a bit much. The last time the two had met up, Colonel Mustang had apparently "won" the exchange, though however they kept track of the score was beyond Alphonse, and that did not sit right with Edward at all.

And so that was how the Elric brothers found themselves stalking around Eastern in the middle of the night armed with nothing but their wits and a camera, following the Colonel after he left work.

Alphonse thought this whole thing was a bit silly, but Edward was so set on finding evidence of something beyond humiliating on Colonel Mustang that nothing could deter him. Truth be told, Alphonse had gotten swept up in his brother's determination, but now that they were hopping in between allies as quietly as possible (something that was really difficult for a suit of armor), he didn't feel that determination, just the silliness. Because unless the Colonel buying a mocha frappacino at a coffee shop was embarrassing, they didn't have anything.

"Maybe we should just go home," Alphonse sighed as they watched the Colonel step in a tiny restaurant. It looked like one of those family-owned businesses that didn't get a lot of customers, but still appreciated everyone that walked through the door. Maybe he'd ask the Colonel about it later. If it was a really good place, he'd have to put it on his list. Small, family-owned businesses were a fondness of Alphonse's, probably because of Winry and Pinako. "Aren't you getting hungry?"

Now that the Colonel was sitting down to eat, surely Edward would remember that he hadn't eaten dinner yet and his stomach would distract him from this useless attempt to blackmail their superior officer.

Edward harrumphed, dropping the camera to his side. "Maybe…" He was just starting to turn around, a moment of relief blossoming in Alphonse, when something caught his attention and Edward swiveled back around to stare into the restaurant. He was so excited that he nearly fell out of the bush he was trying to hide in. "A woman is sitting down at the table with him!" Edward bounced on his feet. "Ha! We caught that bastard on a date!"

Alphonse didn't see how that would be embarrassing. "Then we should really leave. I don't think we should intrude on something so private." Despite his words, he didn't look away either and was actually curious about who the Colonel was on a date with. Both of them had heard all the rumors about how Colonel Mustang was a notorious womanizer and yet still managed to swing dates all the time. Edward said he couldn't believe that any woman would want to go on a date with a smug asshole like Mustang, but then, maybe he did have his charming moments. Lieutenant Hawkeye trusted him completely and she seemed like a good judge of character.

"This is great," Edward exclaimed, raising up his camera so that he could zoom in and get a better look. "I bet he'll be so embarrassed that we caught him like this." He looked up from the camera, not having taken a picture yet, something of a confused look on his face that didn't match his excitement before. "Huh, that woman looks…familiar somehow. Maybe she works in the military too and that's why they're being so secretive. I mean, who wears a hat at night?"

"Let me see, Brother," Alphonse said, reaching over the snatch the camera out of Edward's hands. Edward only put up a fight for a brief second and then Alphonse was peering through the camera lens, moving the make the picture clearer.

The woman's back was to them. She was wearing a sleeveless black dress that covered up her back and also a floppy black and white hat on top of dark brown hair. Still, something about her did look familiar to Alphonse as well. After Mustang laughed, she stood up, moving to the side of the table. He still had a hold of her hand, like he didn't want to let it go, but the woman slid her hand out of his grip and walked away, probably towards the bathroom in the back. She turned around for a moment to say something to the Colonel again, and when she did, Alphonse gasped and nearly dropped the camera.

"Hey!" Edward jumped to make sure the camera didn't fall and break. "What was that for?"

"The Colonel's date…" Alphonse couldn't believe what he'd just seen. One thing was for certain though: they had to put the camera away.

"Yeah, so what?" Edward demanded.

"It's…it's Lieutenant Hawkeye!"

"What!" Edward nearly screamed. Both of them threw themselves into the bushes, even though it was most likely impossible that the Colonel could've heard him all the way from the other side of the street and in a building. This time, when Edward spoke again, it was in a hiss. "Are you sure? The Lieutenant is a blonde and I've never seen her wear a dress and…and… She wouldn't possibly go out with someone like the Colonel! He goes through women like socks!"

"Brother…" This whole scenario seemed ridiculous, but now that he thought about it, a few things started to piece together. They'd come out here to get evidence of something embarrassing on the Colonel, not proof of what exactly his relationship with the Lieutenant was. "Maybe it's all a cover. You know, there are rules against fraternization in the military. They _can't_ go on dates or anything."

Edward was silent for a while, staring down at the camera in thought. When he held his hand out, Alphonse hesitated, but he handed the camera over. The two of them stood up, Edward looking back at the restaurant one last time. "Ah, let's go home, Al. I'm hungry and tired." He said nothing else on the matter as he turned and walked away.

Alphonse took one more glance at the window. There was Colonel Mustang, looking at Lieutenant Hawkeye like she was the only thing in the world. It was amazing what a few seconds could do to completely change a view on someone, but that's exactly what this had done. He wished them the best in his mind and then followed his brother back home. Neither of them would speak a word about the proof of their superior's insubordination, even if it meant getting the upper hand. Besides, Edward would do whatever he could to embarrass the Colonel, but never the Lieutenant. That went without saying.


	13. Betrayal

**Author's Notes:** Ugh, Fridays and Saturdays are the worst. I spend my entire waking time at work and then crash as soon as I get home. I've missed writing. On the flip side, I read a lot of fanfiction while bored at work, so there's that. This one...hurt me a little to write.

* * *

 _13\. Betrayal_

* * *

When Riza came home from school that afternoon, she had no idea that her world was about to be shaken again, though the signs were all there.

Roy had become a little more withdrawn lately, but she'd assumed it was because of his studies, which sometimes took nearly all of his attention and concentration. He would pop in and apologize for being distant, for maybe acting like her father too much, but she always waved away his concerns. Her father seemed more irritable than before, but then even he couldn't ignore the news of the war spreading in Ishval. Tension had hung in the Hawkeye Estate, but then it usually did whenever her father was close to a discovery in his research or Roy was having a particular time with his studies.

Things were…happy. They were good. Riza almost smiled at the thought of going home. Sure, things would never be perfect and they'd never be a happy, picturesque family, but she was content with the way her life was turning out. Things were comfortable. And that was a lot more than she could've said years ago when it was just her and her father.

Riza should've known that life wouldn't (couldn't) stay like that. It wasn't in her nature to be hopeful or whimsical about such things, but somehow or another, Roy's idealistic personality had wormed its way into her mind without her even realizing it. She would only feel foolish and bitter in the end for being so frivolous.

The first sign that this day would signal the end of this illusion of comfort came later on in the day. Riza walked out of school, swinging her backpack over her shoulder, only to find that Roy wasn't waiting for her like he normally was. He almost always took his break to walk into town to greet her when she got out of class, so that she wouldn't have to walk back home alone, even though she'd done it before he'd arrived on their doorstep and even a year after that. She thought it strange, but then figured his studies got the better of him. No matter. His studies were important.

Besides, the walk home was pleasant. It was a rather beautiful day with the sun shining brightly and specks of fluffy clouds in the sky, nothing to hint of a storm coming her way. A few shop people waved at her and she waved back. A quite young girl shyly asked where Mister Mustang was and ran off blushing before Riza could stop grinning and answer. Once she left town, the walk home was a lot quieter, but still pleasant. Her thoughts flittered between upcoming tests, what she should cook for dinner, and if she would have time to spend outside. Vague thoughts drifted towards her father's research, but only for a moment. She was always hesitant to touch those; out of lack of knowledge or fear, she wasn't sure.

The house looked normal on the outside. A little run down, but better after all the work she and Roy had been putting into it over the past year. His alchemy had improved to the point where he could use it to fix up some of the things under the guise of practice.

She was about to open the front door when a loud crash from inside caused her to jump. Her heart leapt into her throat. Had her father fallen down the stairs again? She ripped the door open, ready to leap inside, when a loud roar took her breath away. "GET OUT! GET OUT OF THIS HOUSE!"

Riza blinked in shock, her hand shaking on the handle. That had been her father's voice. She'd never heard him yell like that before ever. A vision of soldiers trying to convince the older man to join the State Alchemist program flashed in her mind. They'd come before and her father had reacted furiously, but never to this level. Maybe he'd finally lost his last nerve.

She stormed inside, ready to protect her father and make the men harassing him leave by any means, but what she instead found was her father, red-faced to the point of looking sick with his face twisted in an expression of utter disgust and hatred, pointing an accusing finger at Roy. All Riza could do was gape. Roy himself looked parts mixture of ashamed and desperate, something she couldn't understand. They'd never fought like this before. Sure, they got into arguments all the time – such was the nature of their cantankerous student-teacher relationship – but nothing on this level.

Roy took a shaky step forward, eyes locked on her father in such a pleading manner that looked like he was close to getting on his knees. He didn't beg this much when he tried convincing the older man to teach him a bit of flame alchemy. "Master–"

"You are no student of mine!" Her father's voice was a cold whip, causing both Roy and Riza to physically flinch. Neither one of them had even noticed her yet, but she could barely breathe, much less announce her arrival. What if her father turned his anger on her? She nearly shivered at the thought. "Leave!"

Every inch of Roy seemed to tremble. Was it anger? Fear? Desperation? Riza couldn't tell and maybe he couldn't either. His face was picture of emotional pain and his hands shook at his sides. He looked torn between wanting to argue and wanting to obey. Roy could be a difficult student at times, but he listened carefully and was diligent if nothing else.

Taking a deep breath and straightening himself much like a soldier, Roy turned on his heels and froze on the spot when he locked eyes with Riza. His mouth parted slightly and his face paled. This time he didn't move a muscle as he stared wide-eyed at her. She could see him wondering how long she had been standing there and what she'd heard. He clamped his mouth shut and forcibly tore his eyes from her, walking past her and outside the house without saying a word.

For her part, Riza jerked her head to the closing door and back at her father, but neither one were going to answer her questions. When she looked at her father, he merely waved a hand and walked into the dark hallway back to his office, muttering angrily under his breath. She would get no answers from him. And so she steeled herself in the same way Roy had done moments before and followed him out the door. She found him quickly, sitting on the tree swing that they'd rigged two summers ago, and carefully made her way over to him.

His head was hung low so that his bangs were hiding his eyes. "How much did you hear?" he asked without looking up at her or making a move. His grip on the ropes was limp, like there was nothing holding him up and he might collapse at any second.

Riza hesitated, chewing on her bottom lip. Now that she was here, she was…afraid of what she might learn. No, that was silly. She could never be afraid of Roy. "Not much," she admitted. "What…? Why was my father so angry with you?"

"I told him that I'm planning to join the military."

All the blood seemed to drain from Riza's face and she took an involuntary step away from Roy. Just minutes ago, she'd thought that military officials had been in the house trying to coerce her father or his apprentice into joining their ranks. This felt too ironic. A man that hated the military had an apprentice that wanted to join it.

"Why?" She couldn't get much of anything else out of her mouth, not when her mind was rattling like there was a firecracker going off inside it.

"It feels like the right thing to do," Roy told her in a mild tone, like he was telling her that the sky was blue or that fish couldn't breathe above water. She felt like that fish now, gaping at him in growing horror. When he looked up at her, there was a determined expression on his face, but that desperate light was in his eyes again. "I want to do what I can to help; I want to go where I can do some good, where I'm needed."

Riza felt as if she'd been slapped in the face and she nearly slapped him in return. _You're going to go somewhere where you'll die!_ she wanted to scream, but the words wouldn't form on her tongue. Tears should've sprung into her eyes, but she was so shocked that they didn't come.

"Please, Riza, you have to understand." There was a neediness to his voice that she couldn't comprehend. She had to understand? Why couldn't he understand that what he was doing was terrible? "I need you to understand, even if your father won't. It's my duty. I can't just sit back while people are dying. I have to do something. I have to protect the people I care about."

When he went to grab her hands, she jerked them away from his reach. A wounded expression flashed across this face, but this time he didn't force it away and left it there in the open for her to see. She hated it. She wanted to make it go away. A part of her felt like groaning and collapsing to her knees. He was begging her to understand him, to give him her blessing for his decision, but she wanted to beg him to change his mind, to see reason, to understand why joining the military was akin to betrayal.

Riza took in a sharp intake of breath. That was what this felt like – his pleading eyes, looking like an animal shot and left to bleed out, the pain in her chest like a knife digging in deep – it felt like he was betraying her. How could she have been so foolish?

Roy never looked away from her eyes. "Riza, please…"

Slowly, as if pulling the knife out of her chest herself, Riza closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

News of the Ishval War got worse every day to the point where they couldn't ignore it. How much longer would it be before it spread here? Roy had always been a hopeful boy, so frantic to do good and prove himself. He talked about his dreams of the future at night whenever they snuck out to look at the stars. A casual comment thrown in here and there about what their life would be once he was done here. Their life. He was not one to stand idle while others were in danger, always so ready to throw himself into a fight to help someone. He was so terribly reckless at times. The thought of him in a military uniform made her want to laugh and cry all at once.

"I may not completely condone your decision, Roy," Riza finally said, opening her eyes, "but I understand."

The relief on his face was palpable, to the point where she could feel it in the air, and when he reached out to grab her hands, she let him take them this time. Her skin felt like it was on fire. Every inch of her was screaming to shove him away, to smack him, to cry and beg with him to stay. He would leave her and maybe he would even die. She couldn't tell the difference between him leaving her now and dying then.

But she trusted him. However awful this felt, however much it stung of grief and betrayal, she trusted him, no matter how much she hurt.


	14. Covered Eyes

**Author's Notes:** Woo, so many new followers! It really does make me smile to see those emails. Also, this is one of the most ridiculous things that I have ever written - and probably when I realized that I like writing Havoc - so enjoy!

* * *

 _14\. Covered Eyes_

* * *

Roy usually wasn't one for celebrating his birthday, especially since this one was the big 3-0. He wasn't enjoying the fact that he was getting older. Sure, he'd look more distinguished and wise and he'd age at least better than General Grumman, hopefully on par with the Fuhrer, but he still couldn't help but remember the days when he'd been the youngest State Alchemist. Now that record was taken by an annoying albeit talented pipsqueak, and Roy was left to get older.

Sooner or later, the days where he grinned at a pretty lady from across the room would turn from charming to creepy. That thought alone was enough to make Roy want to hide in his house in the dark and not come out for a week.

Still, he wasn't the type of person to have a pity party either. This was going to be like any other day. Roy woke up early to go for a quick run before returning home to shower and dress for work. He looked sharp as usual. The ride to work was uneventful. Sometimes, the Lieutenant drove him, but that varied depending on how he felt or if it was raining.

Once at work, he forced himself to be casual, tipping his hat to a pair of giggling female officers in the hallway, which made him feel a little better, and nodding to a few other State Alchemists. Sure, he actively avoided Major Armstrong, but that was only because he didn't desire an excruciatingly shirtless and intimate hug for his birthday from the other man.

The moment he rounded the corner by his office, however, Roy knew that something was up. All of his subordinates were standing outside the door, trying to look even more casual than him, and all failing. Breda was rubbing his chin and looking at the door like it was a mystery. Falman was scratching the back of his head and actively _not_ looking at the door. Fuery's eyes were big behind his glasses and he looked close to pacing. Even Havoc, who was quite good at field work and going undercover, looked jittery, bouncing an unlit cigarette in between his lips and tapping a foot on the ground as he leaned against the wall.

Roy frowned and narrowed his eyes at the scene. All of this was highly suspect. And where was the Lieutenant exactly? No doubt she would not tolerate such inactivity. She probably wouldn't even let him slack in the slightest even though it was his birthday.

Slowly making his way to the door, the moment his subordinates caught sight of him, they all snapped to alertness, even saluting him. "Sir," Havoc greeted. Despite the clipped tone, he was still grinning around the cigarette, like there was a joke that Roy didn't know about.

"Would anyone care to tell me what's going on?" Roy demanded in a rather chilly tone.

All the men glanced at each other. Only Falman appeared nervous, eyes turned towards the ceiling. He'd be the first one to break should Roy press.

Before he could though, Breda coughed. "There's a, ah, surprise in your office." A surprise? Roy tried not to look interested, but well, though he may not like celebrating his birthday, he did enjoy surprises. For the most part. Besides, what sort of surprise would make them all look like this? And where was his Lieutenant?

"You got me a surprise for my birthday," Roy said flatly. "What kind of surprise are we talking about?"

This time, none of them could seem to hide their jitteriness. Havoc was practically bouncing on his toes and Breda had kept his hand in front of his mouth to keep himself from laughing openly. Fuery looked positively mind-boggled and Falman had closed his eyes like he was in pain.

"You'll have to see that for yourself, Colonel," Havoc replied almost too cheerfully. "But first, you'll need to put this on." He held up what appeared to be a regular black tie. At first, Roy didn't quite understand, but once it clicked, he scoffed in protest. Havoc pushed the tie forward, the grin on his face impossibly wide. "Trust me on this one."

Grumbling under his breath, Roy took the tie out of Havoc's hands. It wasn't as if he didn't trust the other man to blindfold him; he just wanted to do it himself. Once it was secure, he dropped his hands to his side. Not being able to see was a little disorientating. He almost flinched when he felt someone adjusting the tie to make sure all of his sight was blocked out, but said nothing and didn't move a muscle until the person was satisfied.

"We'll help you inside." Havoc's voice, right in front of him. "Breda."

When Roy felt someone put their hands on his shoulder, he knew it was Breda. The man's hands were larger than everyone else's here. He didn't grip down, merely guided Roy forward when he heard the door open. There was the sound of carefully shuffling feet as Roy was pushed into their office and the door was shut again. He heard someone making a choking sound and maybe Falman whispering, "She's going to kill us," but Roy couldn't be for sure.

The hands on his shoulders stopped pushing and then pulled away, so Roy stopped walking. He was beginning to get frustrated or maybe antsy. The last time he'd allowed himself to be blindfolded, well… Let's just say that he hadn't been with a group of his subordinates. This was bordering on ridiculous, but if they were going to go through all this trouble to surprise him for his birthday, maybe things weren't so bad.

"You can take the blindfold off now, sir." That was the Lieutenant's voice and this time Roy did jump a little. He hadn't expected her to be in on whatever this was. Would she approve of such lollygagging? Also, what was up with her voice? She sounded so…tense. Maybe uncomfortable. Definitely aggravated, like whenever he was purposely slacking off on his work and attempting to be oblivious to her irritation. And was that…? Did he detect a hint of _breathiness_?

What in the hell had his subordinates gotten into for his birthday?

Roy undid the blindfold and let the tie fall to the ground as he gawked at what was before him. There was no cake. There weren't any streamers. There was absolutely nothing in the office that screamed that it was his thirtieth birthday.

But standing there in front of him was Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye wearing a military uniform, including one of those short military skirts that many of the female officers (and male officers) were so fond of.

It sure as hell wasn't professional, but Roy couldn't help but gape at Riza as she stood there, one arm across her chest as she tightly clasped onto her other arm at her side. Her cheeks were bright red, something he hadn't seen in a good long time, and she somehow had managed to stand even straighter than normal. And even though she looked horribly embarrassed, she stared back at him resolutely, almost defiantly, like she was daring him to say something or call her ridiculous.

"Happy birthday, Colonel!" Havoc laughed as he fell back into his seat. She looked…

"We weren't sure what to get you…" Fuery said nervously as he walked to his own desk. She looked so…

"And we know that you don't really like celebrating your birthday anyways," Breda pointed out, walking to the side of the room to hang up his coat. She looked very…

"Then we remembered your partialness to this, uh, uniform," Falman added, turning almost as red as Riza, before sitting down in his seat and slumping maybe so that she couldn't see him. It wouldn't have mattered anyways, since she didn't look away from Roy. But my God, she looked…

Havoc swiveled around in his chair. How could the man be so casual in a time like this? "We brought it up as a joke, seeing as how you bother her about it every now and then, but she actually agreed!" This time his grin was directed towards the woman herself. "I think Breda nearly pissed himself when she walked in." The look on Havoc's face said that he'd probably done his best not to gawk himself when she first came into the office looking like this today.

After all, Riza Hawkeye looked too damn hot in that military uniform.

And that made things very uncomfortable for Roy. All of a sudden, a million things that were definitely not appropriate between superior and subordinate flooded in his head. He felt far too hot in his uniform and far too constricted. Almost unconsciously, he reached up to tug at his collar, but then forced his hand back down.

Riza took a deep breath, her chest moving slowly. Roy blinked. That was a terrible thing for her to do. "I figured that if I wore it this one time, you'd stop hassling me about it." Yes, that was definitely a defiant look in her eyes. He couldn't tell if she actually wanted him to comment on it though. He didn't know if he could, to be honest. It wouldn't have been work appropriate. Now he could see why her wearing a short skirt was a bad idea for the office; productivity would've plummeted. "I had to borrow a skirt from Lieutenant Catalina, so enjoy this while you can."

"I'll enjoy this sight for the rest of my life," Roy blurted out honestly.

Breda choked on his coffee as Havoc guffawed loudly. Falman buried his face in his hand. Yes, he'd definitely been the one to mutter that Riza was going to kill them. And maybe she would, what with the way she'd snapped her mouth shut and looked flustered.

Finally, she saluted at him and turned to sit at her desk, mechanical and stiff as a robot. Though he knew she wore skirts outside of work, Riza seemed to be absolutely flummoxed as to how they worked in the work setting. That military skirt certainly looked a lot tighter than the ones she normally wore. She swiped her hand at the back of the skirt as she carefully sat down and grimaced upon looking down, probably noting how much the skirt had ridden up. A whole day of her wearing a short military skirt and blushing about. They should go to the gun range today for some target practice. He could only imagine her in that uniform, shooting a gun with excellent precision…

A polite clearing of her throat broke Roy out of his imagination. He smirked at her and then walked to his desk, sliding around it and sitting down in his chair. Oh yes, he didn't celebrate his birthday anymore, but this was certainly one of the best presents he'd received in a long time. He tapped his pen on the table and all of his men set to start working, at least as best as they could. For his part, Roy decided that he'd actually try to get a lot of work done, maybe as a roundabout thank you to the Lieutenant since she looked uncomfortable.

However, when it was close to lunch and she came to his desk to gather some files, Roy couldn't help but lean forward, that same smirk back on his face, and say, "You know, Lieutenant, you should really wear this uniform more often. It really gives you a lot of definition."

The look on her face said that she would not slap him upside the head no matter how much she wanted to, but the look in her eyes told him that somehow, some way, she was going to make him pay for this later. Riza leaned down, a very serious expression on her face, but Roy didn't back down. She'd made it clear that she wasn't going to do anything about this skirt situation today, if only because it was his birthday. "To be honest, I think I look better without the uniform," she said in a low voice only meant for him.

And so Roy was left sitting at his desk, mouth wide open, eyebrows raised, and flushed bright red, gaping stupidly as Riza practically sashayed out of the room. Oh, she was going to make him pay dearly, alright. This was going to be one hell of a birthday at this rate.


	15. The Scent of Blood

**Author's Notes:** So after that round of humor, here's some angst. Because I'm a sucker for Roy having troubles when he's blind.

* * *

 _15\. The Scent of Blood_

* * *

It's strange things that send him back to that day, small things that he can't even comprehend sometimes until it's too late. Part of it probably has to do with the fact that he hasn't gotten his vision back yet. _Next week,_ he reminds himself, but until then, he's stuck in a limbo where one of his most integral senses is gone and the others are struggling to make up for it.

He's never been one for waiting, especially in hospitals and especially when he can't even see the pretty nurses or his even more beautiful roommate, but this is excruciating. He thought that he could get over it, seeing as how they hadn't planned on him getting his eyesight healed at first, but now with the possibility (for lack of a better phrase) in sight, he's grown restless and the slightest things have begun to trip him up.

For the most part, he can ignore the things that set him off. The scratchiness of the bandages on his hands goes to head sometimes and the way he struggles with mobility when he first wakes up. The way his stomach turns and his mind rears every time he opens his eyes and blackness still envelops him. He never says anything, but he has to grit his teeth whenever Riza hisses every time she moves her head or neck too quickly. Really, she's what triggers him the most, but he'll be damned if they take her out of the room. He needs her in here, though he resolutely refuses to admit it out loud.

She's so quiet when she sleeps, almost deathly quiet, to the point where he sometimes wonders if she's still in the room with him, but then she'll whimper or toss in her sleep. The last time he tried getting out of bed to wake her up from a nightmare and reassure her, he stumbled and crashed into her bed, startling her awake and nearly making her jump out and punch him in the face. The nurses chastised him for disturbing her almost more than Riza had for getting out of bed.

 _"_ _You need to focus on yourself,"_ she said. _"You don't need to worry about me."_

Like she didn't matter. Like her being okay and getting better meant nothing. Sometimes, she completely befuddles him. Her words in the tunnel come back to him – that she would end her life after ending his and seeing the mission complete. She'd been so honest, so straight-forward, without any hint of regrets at her decision that his heart nearly seized in his chest. What did he do to deserve someone to follow him like that?

He just wants her to get better, but he doesn't want her to leave the hospital room either. He's selfish that way. In another week, he'll be okay to get out of here. He's certain that she'll be discharged in a day or two, but the idea of being alone in this room without his sight shakes him more than he wants to admit.

A knock on the door tells him that a nurse is entering a room. They always knock. "Just here for a bit of blood from Lieutenant Hawkeye," a woman says cheerily from the direction of the door. At the bed next to him, another woman sighs. Not even the Lieutenant cares for needles or having blood drawn. Still, she doesn't give any complaints. Wheels turning and clanging noises give Roy an idea of what's going on since he's been in hospitals before, a cart rolling in and a nurse getting the needle ready, but it's still strange having to picture a scene in his head that he can't see right in front of him.

Riza is silent in her bed, probably staring down at the needle in her arm with passive contempt, when suddenly she gives a gasp and jerks in her bed, the sheets rustling.

"Oh, I'm sorry, dear!" the nurse exclaims.

Something hits the ground and shatters. Roy sits up in his bed, ready to demand what's happening, when the smell hits him. He probably never would've noticed it before losing his sight, but the metallic scent drifting in the air is impossible for him to ignore now.

The blood on her coat from when Envy attacked her and Roy was almost too late to save her. The look on her face when the sword sliced through her neck. Her eyes were so wide. He loved alchemy circles as a child, all of them, thought them so beautiful. He got so mad whenever someone messed up one of his circles, smudging the lines or dirtying them. He thinks of her blood sliding over the lines of the human transmutation alchemy circle, thick and slippery. There was so much of it. Her life trickling out of her. Her short gasps for air. She recalled his order that she wasn't allowed to die. She wouldn't let him perform human transmutation; even if it had worked, she probably would've shot him and killed herself. The smell of her blood hung in the air there, to the point where he'd barely been able to breathe. It felt like he was breathing her life in as she was dying.

Roy didn't even realize that he was taking large wheezing breaths until he felt someone's small hands on him, one on his shoulder and the other on his lower abs near where his burn scar was. He was ready to tell the nurse off in the middle of trying to breathe again when a gentle voice called to him, "It's okay, Colonel. Everything is fine. She just pulled out the needle a little too fast and I jumped. It's okay."

Riza's voice is soothing, like the wind on a hot day, carefully leading him out of his thoughts. She isn't dying anymore. She is alive. Ragged and tired, but alive. Beautiful as he remembers probably even after lying in a hospital for days at a time. He can't see her, but he only has to listen to her voice to know that she is the most beautiful women he'll ever meet.

Letting out a rough laugh, Roy hangs his head. "If all it takes is a bit of blood to send me into a panic attack, what kind of leader am I going to be?"

Her hands don't leave him, something he guiltily takes small pleasure in. They very rarely touched before, but now that he can't see her, she allows herself to be a little more physical with him. Half their conversations were through body language, but with that taken from them, she's forced to make up through touches here and there. He doesn't know what she thinks of it, if she thinks it means anything, but he's thankful for them.

"Do you know how long it took me to look at my back after what you did for me?" Riza finally asks. The question catches him off guard. He shies away from her slightly, the scent memory of her burned skin strongly coming to mind, but she tightens her grip on him, keeping him close to her. "In a way, it was because I felt guilty for giving you the secrets to flame alchemy. Not because of what you did – but because of what it did to you. The last thing I remember before passing out was the look on your face. You were crying. I'd never seen you cry, not during the War, not when you left, never. You looked like you had never hated yourself more when I felt so grateful and relieved – and then I knew that I had helped do that to you."

Roy moves to grip her hand on his chest. She lets him take it. Her hands are rough from holding weapons so often. She had soft, gentle hands as a teenager. The War changed that; their goals changed that; the Promised Day changed that. Her hands will never be soft again, but her touch is light and careful, like she's holding onto a weapon. And he is. Even without his vision, he is still poised to fight.

"You're going to be a great leader," Riza tells him. There's that straight-forward tone again that brooks no doubt or nonsense. "You're going to be a great man because you feel so much and you care so much that you will do everything in your power to protect others. I can't imagine a greater cause. You aren't a cold machine. You are a man that wants to heal the hurt done to this country and others, hurt that we have caused, not to atone to yourself but to others. I can't think of a better reason to follow you."

He tightens his grip, trying to express all his gratefulness into her without speaking. He wishes he could see her face soften the way it does when she understands what he's trying to silently convey, how her lips turn into a vague smile that only he knows. Instead, she rubs her thumb on the back of his hand to let him know that she comprehends his silence, a new gesture to learn. His lips quirk into a smile. Another week, and they won't have to rely on this new form of communication anymore, but he never wants to let it go again.


	16. Reaching Voice

**Author's Notes:** Thank you so much for reading! As for hoping that I continue writing this, I've actually written up to the 37th prompt already, so you don't have to worry about slowing down. Yeah, I got a little carried away.

* * *

 _16\. Reaching Voice & Unreachable with a Voice_

* * *

The nightmare is always the same. It's always a mixture of the Promised Day blended into one scene. Her bleeding out in front of him, just out of his reach, and him screaming for her. Sometimes he forgets that that's not exactly way it happened – that there were people holding him back – but in the dream, it's just him and her and he still can't get to her.

"Lieutenant!" he shouts, reaching out to her desperately and grabbing at the air. His alchemy gloves are torn. He is absolutely useless. There is nothing he can do. Instead he runs and runs, hands stretched out in front of him, sweat running down his face, but she is far away. Her blood still manages to seep underneath his feet, causing him to slip, and he stumbles, staining his hands and knees. "Lieutenant!"

Her name sits clumsily on his tongue. He wants to scream her name, but he can't get it out, like it doesn't belong with him. What if the last word she hears is him screaming her rank at her? She's not just a lieutenant to him though; she's not just his adjutant. Her name hums in his mind, like a call to home. He has to get to her; he has to save her. What are his goals without her? He stumbles again. What is his life without her? His throat constricts and sweat burns in his eyes.

She has one hand on her throat, clasped against the wound, and one hand stretched out on the ground towards him, like she too is trying to grab him. Clinging to life with one hand and holding out to him with the other. Isn't that the perfect metaphor for her life?

He takes one last giant leap, so close to her now, and shouts, "Riza!" Her eyes widen slightly then. It's something that he can't ever take back, that he doesn't want to hold in. She needs to hear it now. He needs to say it. There's far too much left unsaid between them, and she's so close that he can breathe the scent of her in and taste her metallic blood in the air and–

Horrible laughter from behind him causes him to roll his eyes to the side for a moment, but he can't see anything. When he glances back at Riza, he sees a look of pure horror on her face, brown eyes wide with fear and her face paler than any loss of blood could cause. She lifts her hand on the ground towards him, opens her mouth to say something, but the words don't come out. She can't speak. Her throat is cut. She is dying. Her voice is gone.

White hands grab him from behind, fuzzy and out of focus. Small black tendrils sneak around his ankles too. He falls to the ground, chin digging into the concrete painfully, but he doesn't take his eyes away from her. Not as he's dragged away from her once more, screaming her name again and again – "Riza!" – his hands and fingers clawing at the ground. That laughter rings in his ears like an echo.

He sees her silently mouth a word ("Roy," she says without speaking), and he lets out a wordless bellow as she disappears from his sight into a dark shadow. The hands still pull on him, holding him back even as he kicks and writhes about.

"Oh, don't you worry, Roy Mustang," Truth whispers in his ear. "I'll let you say goodbye to her. You just won't ever see her again."

No, no, it can't go this way – not this way. He never wanted to open the Door. He didn't want to do this. You can't be forced– He has to save Riza. Screams tear out his mouth. Her name roars in his mind. If he's being forced into this taboo, then let her live. _Let her live, please._

Waking up to the dark shouldn't be a relief, but when he hears steady breathing next to him, Roy can't help but settle down and take a shuddering breath as the last words of his nightmare slowly fade away.


	17. Scars

**Author's Notes:** So while I'm a sucker for the secret relationship trope, I've never actually used it myself - until now. Thanks for reading and the follows!

* * *

 _17\. Scars_

* * *

Their lives are mapped out on their bodies, crisscrossing trails that speak of destruction, pain, horror, suffering. They speak of life too though. The scars are there to remind both of them that they are still alive – that they were wounded and then dug themselves out of the ashes of what remained of them. Those scars tell a story of how they could have died, perhaps should have died, and yet they clawed their way through and came out stronger for it in the end.

If he looks at her carefully enough, Roy can remember a time when Riza was fragile and soft. She was such a cautious child, but tucked away in her father's estate outside of a small town, she didn't know much of the world. The Ishval War changed that, molded her into something new, harder and more dangerous. The road to the Promised Day severed any times left to that delicate young girl.

Though it has faded in time, the scars on her back still give him pause. He doesn't get the chance to see them often. She hides them from him, as if worried that he'll fall into a heap of self-hatred if he does, and she's probably right about that. The times he does see the burn marks of his creation marring her skin are brief glimpses, but enough to send him right back to that day in the desert. He'll turn at the right moment when she's pulling her shirt back on or when she's in the bathroom with nothing but a towel wrapped around her.

And when they're together in bed, though she won't admit it, he can tell when she actively tries to make sure that her back isn't in his line of sight. It's like some sort of strange acrobatic act. He never comments that he knows that she does that, to the point where he's not even sure if she knows that he knows. It's just something they don't bring up. He can still feel the scars though when he runs his hands down her bare back. Sometimes, she'll lie on her stomach and let him trace his fingers over her skin, but only if the lights are turned off. She isn't ashamed of the burns, not one bit worried that it might look ugly. She only worries about him.

It's the scar on her neck that makes his fists clench. Over the past few months, it has faded much more than the burn marks. She even applies make up to the area so that no one can see it unless they look very intently at her. Sometimes, he even manages to forget that it's there. But what he remembers the most upon getting his vision back is the livid scar on her neck, reminding him of his failure. He thought he lost her.

He can still remember reaching out for her one night in the hospital shortly after his eyesight was returned to him. She came without saying a word. His fingers brushed against the healing wound, knowing full well that it would leave a permanent scar no matter what the doctors did, until his hands slid around the back of her neck and he pulled her down to kiss him. If she was shocked then by his brazen act, she never told him, responding to him as if they kissed all the time.

They don't get the chance to do that very often. He takes advantage of every little moment they get, greedily holding onto his intimate time with her. Sometimes it's an early morning before they shuffle off to work after he comes over late the night before. She always gets up before him, letting him lie in her bed, but that isn't always enough for him. He knows that in an hour, things will be back to normal and he won't be allowed to touch her. She can't be his. She'll hide her scars from the world and no one will know the better.

It's enough to drive him out of bed. He knocks onto the door to announce his coming into the bathroom. Steam from the hot shower rises in the air, fogging up the mirror and the glass of the shower door. Shedding himself of his clothes, he slips into the shower behind her and shuts the door. It's not spacious, but it's at least enough room for two people. She's got one forearm against the wall as hot water cascades down the back of her head and her back, her long blond hair sticking to her skin.

The moment his hands slide over her stomach, she hums and leans back against him into his chest. "I didn't wake you, did I?" she asks.

He presses a kiss on her shoulder near the crook of her neck, an inch away from the scar that sticks out like a faint red line. "No, I just missed you."

She gives him a throaty chuckle in response.

This is still something new for them, this touching intimacy and delicate honesty. He's known for a long time that he loves her, but it wasn't something that he could have or something he thought he deserved. He still isn't quite sure he does, but maybe the fact that he can't have her completely is pain enough to make up for these brief flashes of when he does. Whatever is going on between them is a double-edged sword, giving them new albeit invisible scars.

She turns in the shower so that she can lean against the wall and the water sprays in the middle of them. It's hot, almost scolding, just the way that he likes it. Some people might've flinched under the heat of this water. Both of them are used to using water to burn away unseen things. Her hands move to his chest, her thin fingers sliding over the livid burn mark on his lower ab. His own doing from when he fought Lust, a burn mark to mirror the one on her back; they are two sides of a coin in that respect.

It's not the only scar that he has anymore. There's the faint scar on the back of his hand where he'd carved the flame alchemy circle into his skin. That had been perhaps more painful and torturous than cauterizing his own wound. It had been slow going and he couldn't afford to pass out then from the slicing and precise pain.

With one hand on his chest, her other hand slid over to tangle her fingers in his. Who knew that something as simple as holding hands could cause his heart to swell? There are the matching slice marks on the palms and backs of both of his hands where Wrath's swords punctured through them to hold him down. He can hide those scars underneath his gloves or the cover of her hands, but she knows that they will always be there.

"We could call into work," Roy says as he trails his free hand up her arm.

Her eyes are still on the scar on his chest, but she smiles faintly. "That would be irresponsible."

He leans into her slightly and her eyes flash up to him, pupils a little bit darker, but she doesn't stop him when he kisses her lazily. It's not often that they get the simple time to just enjoy either. He's spent hours mapping her out, taking note of every scar, curve, gasp, freckle, and sigh, but he always wants more. He kisses down her neck. There's so much more to her than he ever realized.

"We're going to be late, if you keep that up," Riza warns him, her tone bordering on dangerous, her grip on his hand tightening and her nails scratching his scar lightly. He rather likes the sound of that. In his mind, they can afford to be late this one time. He'll just have to make up for it later and he can handle her stern glances then if it means her warm touch now.

The shower is nearly cold by the time they get out.


	18. I don't want to realize

**Author's Notes:** So I had fun writing about Hughes teasing Roy about Riza, I figured I'd give Rebecca a turn to go at Riza about Roy. Because friends will keep their mouth shuts, but best friends will tell you what's up and make you feel awkward. Thanks for reading!

* * *

 _18\. "I don't want to realize…"_

* * *

"I know what you need," Rebecca proclaimed in her most serious voice, slamming her empty martini glass down and leaning over the table. Her eyes were sharp and demanding, but then she always got like that whenever an idea popped into her head. "You need to go on a date."

Riza scoffed, shaking her head at her best friend. She loved the girl dearly after all they'd gone through. The two of them couldn't be more different and yet that was what made them work. For all her blithering about finding a good man, Rebecca was a hard worker and dedicated to her job, but most importantly, she was one of the most loyal people that Riza had ever known. Still, the woman got a lot of fanciful ideas in her head at times, especially when it came to both of their love lives or lack thereof.

"I'm serious, Riza!" Rebecca exclaimed, waving her hands in the air dramatically. She was a pretty…sensational as it was, but it got a lot worse after a few drinks. "You're going to turn thirty soon. And when's the last time you went on a date? I can't even remember! It's been longer than the last time I went on one, and that's saying something." She sighed and tapped her fingers on the table. "Who was that guy you last went on a date with? He owned a shop of some sort…"

"Roger. He owned a bakery."

"Yes! Roger the Baker!" Rebecca huffed and folded her arms across her chest, now leaning back in her chair. The look she gave Riza was almost accusing. "He was such a good-looking, nice gentleman."

"Are you sure you didn't just like him because he baked cakes for us?" Riza asked innocently. Okay, maybe it wasn't so innocent.

The look Rebecca gave her said that she didn't believe that either. "What happened to him? I feel like you just…stopped talking to him out of the blue."

All Riza could do was shrug her shoulders. It had been years since she had went out with that man. The last time she'd seen him, he was still working at the bakery, but this time was happily married to another woman. She'd congratulated him and he'd awkwardly thanked her for ending things with him since he bumped into his future wife right after on accident. His words hadn't hurt Riza in the slightest. She _was_ happy for him. It hadn't been his fault that things didn't work out between them. Both of them knew that.

"You need to go on a date," Rebecca said firmly, "if only to get your mind off that Colonel of yours. I don't know what it is about him, but you're too good of a person to be pining after someone like him!"

This time, Riza gaped openly at her friend. It was one thing to tell her that she needed to go on dates, but it was quite another to insinuate that the reason she didn't date was because she was infatuated with her superior. "The Colonel has nothing to do with the reason that I haven't gone on any dates in a while," Riza said, trying to be as calm as possible. Still, the words seemed to come out almost unwillingly. "I'm merely focused on my job."

"Yeah, and your job is him!" Rebecca pointed out.

Riza frowned. Her friend wasn't entirely wrong about that.

Propping her chin in her hands, Rebecca gave her something of a sympathetic look. "Listen; I get it. At least I think I do. You two clearly have a history that seemingly no one but you two know about, which causes both of you to care for each other in a…different way. And then you work for him, so there's all those no fraternization rules, which complicates things even further. But you can't allow that to hold you back. If you can't be with him, well, then you should really move on. It's not healthy refusing yourself a part of a life that you might want."

There weren't a lot of times when the two of them were this frank with one another about romance. Sure, there were all the times that Rebecca lamented that she couldn't find a decent man, but it had somehow become something of a joke between the two of them, no matter how serious Rebecca was about it. At the Academy, they'd both teased each other about dates and whatnot, though Riza had been more hesitant about them. In the end though, they had their jobs, their own ambitions, their lives, and love was only part of it.

The idea that Rebecca was actually worried that Riza was holding out on finding someone to spend her life with for any reason was somewhat startling, even more so to hear it now. There were many times when Rebecca's seriousness was still light at heart, but there was such an intense caring in her eyes now. Her friend was truly concerned over her. A part of Riza couldn't help but feel guilty for letting Rebecca feel this way about her.

"And though it's pretty damn obvious that Colonel Smug Face does have feelings for you as well, it's clearly not holding him back from going out on dates," Rebecca added, though not unkindly. It didn't matter though. Riza still flinched. The look on her friend's face said everything: she was sorry, but the words needed to be said. And maybe they did. Roy did go on plenty of dates. He was a sore point of jealousy for many other men in the military. "You should do so as well. I can't stand the idea of him one day finding someone to be with while you're left behind because of your sense of duty and honor. It's not fair."

Riza stared, her stomach rolling uncomfortably. _I don't want to realize that he might move on._

The thought struck her like a bullet to the chest, taking her breath away, but she bit down on the pain and shoved it as far away from her as possible. It wasn't right of her to think like that. The Colonel was her superior officer. His love life didn't concern her. She was his adjutant. She would follow him into hell, not into his bed. At that thought, she gave a start. When had that jumped into her mind?

Rebecca took the movement to mean that she had accomplished something and nodded her head. "Finally, something got through to you. I knew I was right about all of this, but still…" She looked around the bar and then jumped to her feet. "We're going to start this weekend off right and we're going to do that by talking to those two cute guys at the bar. That dark-haired one has been eyeing you all night anyways."

Taking hold of her empty glass, Riza closed her eyes as Rebecca gave her hair a quick fix. She would do anything for her friend, even chomp down on her pride and play wing woman if need be, but did it have to be someone with messy, dark hair? But maybe her friend was right. She could not expect Roy to not find someone (and wait) just because she was putting that part of her life on hold. It wasn't fair of her to think that. And maybe it wasn't fair of him to think she would when he wasn't.

Plus, it was utterly ridiculous to think that he might want her to anyways. He was her superior officer and while they had a long-lasting friendship, it would never be anything more. He couldn't possibly want that. She could at least try Rebecca's suggestion. If it didn't work out, it would still satiate her friend for a while.


	19. Things One Cannot Understand

**Author's Notes:** Thanks for reading everyone! Once again, the weekend prevents me from posting regularly, but this time it was actually because I was being (gasp!) social for once. Enjoy!

* * *

 _19\. Things one cannot understand_

* * *

There are things that no one can understand about Colonel Mustang and Lieutenant Hawkeye.

For one, few people know exactly how they met. Everyone's knowledge on the matter seems to be different. Some people in Central don't even realize that they didn't meet in the military. To the people that worked in Eastern with them, they knew at least that. One day, Hawkeye appeared and was named as Mustang's adjutant. They had to have known each other before their time in the military. Mustang wouldn't trust just anyone to watch his back.

Maybe they met in Ishval during their time serving in the war. That's what most people assume. It's what the rest of Mustang's subordinates thought for the longest time. The war brought a lot of people together in strange ways, some good and some bad. It created toxic, codependent relationships in some and strong, loyal bonds in others. (To be honest, Mustang himself isn't exactly sure which one that they have at times, although he never says it out loud.)

However, it was due to careful observations by Breda that they found out that their Colonel and the Lieutenant had not met during the Ishval War, but before that. Maybe they met at the Academy. But no, Maes Hughes knew better than that, having been in the Military Academy with Mustang and also with him when Hawkeye first made her presence in Ishval known to Mustang. He was the first one to surmise that the two of them had known each other from their childhood somehow, but it was a long time before either one of them admitted out loud just how they'd known each other.

For two, not everyone can understand just how they work together and why. The Colonel comes off as careless and full of bravado while the Lieutenant is serious and humble. Sure, there are smiles here and there from her, but she's not one to let anyone slack off, least of all her superior, which is a strange sight considering that he is her superior after all. It really is a sight though seeing the two of them work together in such perfect harmony, especially when it comes to dealing with criminals or civilians. Neither one of them has to look at the other to know what to do and even when one falters, the other steps up without a word being spoken.

No one knows about the bonds that tie them to each other. They can't know about the ink on Hawkeye's back that partially tells the secrets of the alchemy circles on the back of Mustang's ignition gloves. No one will ever know how he found her on the day they were leaving Ishval, how broken she'd looked while patting the soil over a freshly made grave for a child and how relieved her smile at been when he'd agreed to burn her. No one will ever know how he collapsed to the ground and shook violently after marring her skin. How the act tied him to her irrevocably. He won't even tell her about the nightmares he has, about losing control of his flames and murdering her.

All of his subordinates jumped in to his cause and to follow him, but only she promised to follow him into hell. He'd nearly laughed then, coldly and full of self-loathing – because if they hadn't already been in hell together, if she hadn't joined him there because of his precious idealism, then what was hell truly like? – but he'd stopped himself in shock at her frankness. He had always known that Riza Hawkeye was a strangely fierce person in her own way, but he couldn't understand how she could follow him so willingly after what he'd done in Ishval to their people and to her.

But Hawkeye knows something that perhaps he himself doesn't know: that for all the ways the Ishval War broke him, Roy Mustang will always be an idealist at heart. He will always want to help and protect others no matter the costs. He will always do what he feels is for the good of others.

She sees the boy that showed up with little more than the clothes on his back, determined to convince her temperamental father to teach him alchemy. She sees the young man that defied his teacher to stand up for what he believed in, even if it meant being cast off forever. She sees the man that paid out of pocket for his former teacher's funeral even when she didn't ask, the man who touched the alchemy patchwork on her back with reverence and apologies shaking in his hands. She sees the officer who sequestered himself after every mission and dug his nails into his hands so badly that he pierced his gloves and skin. She sees the person who carried her to the medical tent after her so-called accident, who stayed with her until she was okay. She sees the man that will carry this nation back to what it should be, even if it means carrying all its weight on his shoulders.

Even he might not understand at times why she chose to join his cause, but it's been so long that she doesn't even see it as his cause any more and more like theirs. This is her weight to bear as well and she will help him in any way that she can. At least he knows that about her. She has always helped him. She might not give her reasons, but she does and he never questions her for it.

There are things that no one can understand about them; there are things that only they can understand about one another; and they are fine with leaving everyone else in the dark. It is their story, after all, and Mustang has always been possessive about it and Hawkeye protective of it.


	20. Murderer

**Author's Notes:** Thanks everyone for reading and following! Fun story - this is the 20th chapter. I've written up to 40. I suppose I should thank my difficulty sleeping at night for that. Sad, Ishval feels time!

* * *

 _20\. "Murderer"_

* * *

It's after her third mission that Riza hears the words slip out of the mouth of a fellow soldier. She wasn't meant to hear it and it doesn't even concern her, but for some reason, the soldier's whispered statement stabs her directly in the heart and causes her to halt in her tracks.

The stars are covered in the sky by a blanket of smoke caused by flames that she knows instinctively were Roy's. Sure, he isn't the only person causing fires, but he's the best at them. Somehow, even though she knows nothing about alchemy, she knows that they are his. The smoke hanging in the air around them tells the story of his victory, a faint reminder of what the State Alchemists were brought here to accomplish and that none of them are quite on his level. Riza imagines that without his flames, the stars would've shined brightly in Ishval, just as they did back home.

Ragged from lack of sleep and muscles aching from lying in position behind the scope of her rifle for so long, Riza wanders around the camp. No matter how tired she is, she always struggles to fall asleep here. It isn't the cot or the sounds of war raging around them, ranging from an eerie quiet to disembodied screams and explosions. It isn't that this place is foreign and unusual. She's never slept well, for as long as she can remember, but her mind races from every day's events to the point where she has to exhaust it before she can sleep.

She's nearly back to her tent, so ready for the sleep that will hopefully be void of dreams, when she passes a group of soldiers huddled by a fire. As a sniper, she spends more time alone than with the other soldiers and if she is with people, she usually somehow finds herself with Roy and the like. For however much she was denied the knowledge to alchemy by her father, she is very familiar with alchemists themselves. Also, as a sniper not even out of the Academy, she's developed something of a reputation, one that has set her apart from the others whether she wants it or not.

To her, the soldiers by the fire are no one. And then she hears the words.

"That Mustang is nothing but a murderer."

Riza stops walking and stares straight ahead at her tent. The cot inside is no longer calling to her. For a moment, she feels little more than shock. Murderer? Roy, a murderer? She turns the word over in her mind again and again, almost like she's examining it. She tests the word again, actually mouthing it to herself this time: murderer. It tastes like ashes on her tongue.

White hot rage suddenly flares in her chest to the point where she can barely breathe. She clenches her fists at her sides as they begin to tremble. Roy was nothing but a murderer? Did they not know who they were talking about? If it wasn't for Roy and the other State Alchemists, they would've been dying out here. That man might not have even been alive to say such a thing! The only reason this war was coming to an end was because of the sacrifices that the State Alchemists were making. They were damning themselves under orders by the same government that commanded every plain military recruit.

Before Riza can stop herself, she storms over to the group. One of them, a woman, opens her mouth to greet her, but Riza ignores her completely, barreling her way through the four soldiers so that she can take the lapels of the officer that spoke and give him a rough shake. The light of the fire must be just good enough so that he can see the furious expression on Riza's face, because he pales when he looks her in the eyes and actually begins to whimper.

"Don't you dare speak about what you don't know or couldn't possibly understand," Riza growls, the heat of her anger causing her to feel like she is actually on fire. The officer in question clearly hasn't been on the battlefield for long. He doesn't wear the haunted look like the rest of them and she hopes he never will, no matter how angry she is with him. "You don't think a piece of him doesn't die whenever he obeys the commands he was given? The same commands that we follow, only under different circumstances? Do you call yourself a murderer?"

The man gapes down at her. He's considerably taller than her, physically stronger too, and yet he looks weak under her glare. In her hands, as she tightly grips his jacket, he looks little more than a toy to be tossed to the side. His companions say nothing in his defense and only stare in shock. Everyone knows of the Hawk's Eye and they also know how reticent she is and how much she keeps to herself. To see her so open and so wildly emotional is startling to say the least. A distant part of her is even shocked.

Riza lets go of the officer's jacket. It is almost a wonder that he doesn't collapse to his knees from the way he stumbles after she does. "He's killing himself to protect you and help end this war. The least you can do is show some respect." After throwing him her most disgusted look, she stomps away from the group, still visibly shaking from anger.

A murderer. They are all murderers here, every last one of them, herself included. She knows that Roy is on that list as well, but for the life of her, she just can't tie that word to him, not now. They're already beginning to call him the Hero of Ishval. Every time the name comes up, she catches him ducking his eyes, not in embarrassment but in shame. He is no hero. She knows that. He knows that.

But she won't call him a murderer. He may be one in the end, but to hear it spoken aloud pains her too much. She gave him the weapons of his destruction. She can't call him something when she handed him the tools. The blood on his hands is every bit as much on hers. She won't let anyone bring him down any more than he does to himself.

Just before she darts into her tent, Riza catches a glimpse of a figure staring in the nearest city, the slow burning fires causing the person to appear as just a shadow. She knows that it's Roy just from the way he's standing, reminding her painfully of the times she would look out her window and see him standing outside and looking up at the stars lost in thought. That isn't the cut of a murderer, she tells herself, even as she knows that he is gazing down at the evidence of his ruin. It destroys him a little further, but he forces himself to look at it.

She'll have to protect him, even if it means protecting him from himself.


	21. Repentance - Confession

**Author's Notes:** Thanks for the follows! Ah, I am a sucker for Roy when he's angsty. He's got good cause to be. (Especially in the 03 FMA, holy shit. That was awful.)

* * *

 _21\. Repentance/Confession_

* * *

He owed a hell of a lot to her. It was as if he'd been racking up debts towards her from the moment their lives crossed paths. How long would it take before he could pay her back? Could he even do that? Would she even accept? She was ridiculously stubborn, to the point where she wouldn't admit it. As far as she was concerned, he owed her nothing, but to him, it felt as if he owed her the world and more.

After all, Roy had stepped into Riza's world so many times that his footprints could mark the all the moments in her life that he'd changed it. Her life was irrevocably altered every time he came into it. Perhaps every little thing from good to awful hinged on the moment he knocked on the Hawkeye Estate. Maybe she had been tied to this fate that first moment they accidentally laid eyes on one another in the library. Had he damned her to this life all those years ago?

Likely she would've told him off for thinking such things. Everything she had done had been her choice. She had chosen to become friends with her father's apprentice despite her apprehension and her father's orders not to speak to him. She had chosen to give him the secrets to her father's research. She had chosen to join the military. She had chosen to pick up a rifle. She had chosen to follow him after the war. He hadn't forced her to do anything.

Still, Roy couldn't help but wonder what Riza's life would have been like had he not been in it. Would she be married? Have a family? Would she smile more and hold herself back less? Would she be happy?

For some reason, the mere mental image of her laughing and smiling with the vague figure of another man and a child was enough to cause Roy to grit his teeth and clench his fists. Had he caused her in some way to deny herself of what so many cherished? Even then, he felt relieved that she wasn't living like that and that she was with him, which made him feel all the more ashamed. He was happy that she was standing with him. Maybe he wouldn't have known what he was missing if he'd never met her, but he had and he knew that there would've been a hole in the shape of her that he never would've been able to understand had he not.

If only he could make it up to her somehow without her knowing that he was trying to do so… That would make him feel better, however selfish it sounded.

It was shortly after he received his eyesight back that it came to be too much. How much of a burden had he been without his eyesight, growing prone to panic attacks and not being able to walk by himself? She took so much time out of her own life to help him recuperate from his. The Philosopher's Stone took time apparently when it came to regaining something that Truth had taken, so his vision came back slowly and blurrily in a way that not even glasses could fix. It was like he was looking through fog and murky water.

As they were walking around the small garden of the hospital with her at his side, her hands on the crook of his arm, Roy huffed irritably and fell onto a nearby bench, nearly falling over after misjudging how close he was to it. The only reason he didn't end up in a rose bush was the suddenly tight grip Riza had a hold of his arm. Once they were sitting down though, Roy put his face in his hands, pulling his arm out of her grip while doing so.

"I must apologize to you, Lieutenant," he mumbled into his hands.

"Sir, you have nothing to apologize for." There it was – that flat, utterly confident voice of hers that managed to drive him absolutely mad at times. It was so constant that he was grateful for it most of the time, but then there were times like this one that she seemed to use it almost as an act of insubordination.

"You shouldn't be doing this," Roy continued regardless of her feelings on the matter. He had to get this off his chest, if only to lessen the dull ache that haunted him. Couldn't she see what he'd done to her? He'd wounded her worse than any bullet ever could. He'd helped damage her in more ways than one. "I've asked far too much of you."

"And yet I'm still here," Riza put in. Her voice wasn't gentle. If anything, she sounded about as irritated as he felt. "I've done what I have because I thought it was the right thing to do, even when it turned out it wasn't."

Roy shook his head miserably, pulling his face out of his hands. He still couldn't see properly, mostly just vague shapes that he was forced to guess and spots of color. It was frustrating, especially when he looked at her. All he wanted to do was see her face again, even if she was glowering at him. "Can't you see? You would've been so much better off without me. I should never have dragged you into this mess. Think of how happy you could have been. You could have done what you wanted instead of following me around."

"Maybe," Riza said, "but I chose to follow you instead and _this_ is what I want to do now."

"I used to think that I could live with anything as long as you were by my side," Roy confessed weakly, dropping his chin to his chest. "Now I just feel like I've damned you to hell with me."

Riza gently took his hands in hers. When he glanced up at her, he didn't need to see perfectly to know that there was a fierce light in her eyes. "Well if we're going to hell, it's my job to make sure you live through it. That is what I want to do – and I'll be damned if you throw yourself a pity party over what is my decision." He opened his mouth to protest, but she actually placed a hand over his mouth, silencing him effectively. "I don't need your repentance, Roy Mustang. I need your promise that you will get better so that we can see the fruition of your plans to make his country a better place again. I'll not have you waste our time with needless apologies."

She was so determined to the point of sounding angry that Roy almost laughed. When she had something in her mind, it was difficult for her to let it go. And she would not let him fall victim to fancies of remorse, not when they already had so much of it staining their past.

"You can regret what you did as long as you strive to atone for it," Riza told him, "but don't you dare for a second wish that I wasn't here with you. I wouldn't change stepping into your office because it was the right thing to do and it was what I wanted. I knew that you were the only one that would help me atone for my own actions and I am proud to be here with you."

Roy gave her a small smile. He could see the way her shoulders relaxed then, relieved at having won him over, at least for now. He couldn't promise that he wouldn't think that way again, but for now, her words assuaged him. "I'm glad you're with me." The admission was the truth. He felt guilty, but he was also thankful. Honestly he didn't know where he would be without her. He leaned slightly, putting his head on her shoulder, and caught the way that she tensed up again, but then her hand wove around his back and sat on his waist, holding him against her. For now, this was enough. For now, this was good.


	22. God

**Author's Notes:** Upon my rewatch, I've thought a lot about what Truth is exactly - and I'm pretty sure that Roy has as well. Man, that episode still messes me up something terrible. Like, what the hell? Thanks for reading!

* * *

 _22\. God_

* * *

She found him staring up at a large crumbling statue of a man holding his hand out. The statue looked as if it had once been an integral part of the room, but the building was close to obliterated, the ceiling mostly gone and half the walls reduced to rubble at best. It didn't make the place easy to walk around or safe, but there had been a small winding path in between stones for her to follow. He wasn't supposed to go out on his own – the Amestrian uniform was a target sign at best – but she had learned how to tail him ages ago while the rest of his so-called bodyguard were left wondering where their General disappeared.

At first, she hung back in the shadows of one of the remaining columns, unsure if she should keep her presence unknown to him or not. She also wasn't sure if he'd be irritated that she'd followed him when he clearly wanted to be on his own. But then, he should've known better than that. She couldn't let him wander off, not here, not when there was so much work left to be done and a single bullet could cause what little work they'd already done to fall apart. Plus, what kind of adjutant would she be if she allowed anything to happen to him here?

"Do you think God could possibly forgive us for what we've done?" Roy suddenly asked.

Of course he knew that she was here with him. She'd learned how to hide things from him, but it sometimes felt like at times that he had a sixth sense when it came to her. Maybe it was because of the fact that he'd placed the command to guard his back on her himself and he simply expected it of her. Or maybe it was because he recognized a change in the air when she was around. It was harder to tell in the desert when so many memories swirled around them.

Riza stepped forward until she was standing at his side and also gazing up at the statue. "I thought you didn't believe in God, sir."

Roy's lips twisted bitterly. "It's a bit difficult for me to deny that there isn't something out there after what happened." He dropped his gaze from the statue and raised his fingers to his eyes, holding them just an inch apart. He always did that whenever he recalled losing his eyesight, the same act he'd apparently done upon falling through the Gate. She never brought the unconscious action up to him, if only because he didn't know that Edward had told her of it. "Maybe not God then. Truth, isn't it? Whatever it was, it didn't seem like the forgiving type."

"From what I was told, it didn't seem like the type to hold a grudge either," Riza pointed out. Roy dropped his hand and turned to look at her, his face strangely blank. She had never performed alchemy, resolutely refused it for whatever reasons, so she had never had the chance to personally face Truth, not as he did or the Elrics. But she'd faced it in her own way, unable to ignore the ugly realities of life and forge her way through them. No Philosopher's Stone could fix that. "Truth took your sight, but in the end, it allowed you to have it back with the use of the Stone without complaint. Alphonse Elric was returned to his body after Edward's sacrifice. Sounds more like a cruel lesson than punishment."

For a moment, Roy considered her words, still giving her that blank look, but then he nodded his head and turned back to face the statue. Ishval had its own religion, a strict practice, that had little to do with Truth or whatever god other people came up with. She was reminded of Liore, a place where religion and a false man had brought the people to their knees. Her family had never been religious, so she'd never felt the appeal towards it. For her, she believed in tangible things that she could see and feel. She believed in the man standing next to her. That was all she really needed for now.

"I was angry for a while after Truth took my sight," Roy said in a distant voice. Riza nodded her head. It was only natural that he would've been, considering that he'd been forced to open the Gate. He had only considered performing human transmutation for a second, when she'd been dying, but with a single look from her, he had held himself back and steeled himself to never do it. Truth hadn't cared about that though. A cruel lesson indeed. "It was only until weeks after though I… _saw_ how much worse it could have been. Truth could've taken anything from me – it took my vision – but then I realized that it could've taken you."

Riza's face softened. For a brief second, she wondered how Roy would've handled the situation that Edward and Alphonse had placed themselves in. Both Roy and Edward, for however much they bickered with one another, were both incredibly stubborn and strong-minded men. She doubted that he would've been able to let her go, just as Edward had refused to let go of Alphonse. The man was unfortunately irresponsible at times when it came to her.

"After all, the Fuhrer certainly knew just how to cut me to the quick when he took you on as his personal assistant," Roy continued. Finding out that news had cast her in such a shadow in more ways than one. She couldn't perform the duties she'd sworn to when she wasn't with him. And she'd hated being scared, though she hotly refused to cop to it. Serving a homunculus couldn't be pleasant though. "If Truth had left me to see my vision of this country but without you… I don't know what I would've done. I couldn't even begin to see a future without you in it, not this country's or mine. Maybe that was too cruel even for Truth."

Taking a breath, Riza laid a careful hand on his arm. "It seemed as if he took pride in teaching lessons on pride, not doing things out of spite." They very rarely talked about what happened at the Gate – it was something that was between alchemists – and while they shared almost everything with each other, there were some things that she knew that she would never be able to understand about him. "At any rate, you learned it and, in a way, you were forgiven. Now all that's left is if we can rebuild what we destroyed. If there is a god, would he not think that the right thing to do?"

"We can't repay all the lives we took," Roy said grimly. "Nothing can be equivalent to that."

"But we can do our best to give back," Riza told him, "even if it means crawling on our hands and needs. I don't need any god's forgiveness. If only one Ishvalan can forgive me for the atrocities I committed, I will be eternally grateful for that; and even then, I do not expect that."

Roy gave her a small smile and then turned to walk out of the broken church. She waited a couple beats, looking up at the statue, and then followed him. Tomorrow, they would begin rebuilding this building. Due to having gone through the Gate, Roy was able to perform an even stronger array of alchemy, some in the way similar to the Fullmetal Alchemist had been able to do, and he was using every last bit of his gift to rebuild this country, even if it meant doing it from the ground up. That was the kind of man she believed in.


	23. Someone I Want to Protect

**Author's Notes:** This could have gone a lot of different ways. My immediate thought was to make it serious - Riza protecting Roy during the Ishval War and such - but then I realized that I could do something humorous and it took on a whole new life. I've got a weakness for jealous!Roy, mostly because I've always pictured him mixing up his jealousy with his protectiveness, like in that missing scene where Roy threatens to light up Barry for hitting on Riza.

* * *

 _23\. Someone I Want to Protect_

* * *

From her seat at the table, Riza had a good view of the entire bar. She hated sitting in areas where her view was obstructed, especially in small rooms, so when the entire team walked inside, she'd taken the liberty of picking where they would sit. It wasn't often that she came out with them, but when she did, all of the men seemed even more enthusiastic and ridiculous. Maybe it was just the alcohol though.

Still, though she was loathed to admit it, she did enjoy it whenever they invited her out with them. She knew that she could be considered a stick in the mud and intimidating, but she did like to go out every now and then. She normally turned them down, but it had been a good week and she was in a surprisingly good mood to be social. When Havoc had extended his invite to go out to her, she'd accepted quickly, causing the man to grin and high five a surprised-looking Falman.

Now that they were two hours into their time at the bar, Riza still felt that hum of satisfaction. Sure, she hadn't drunk nearly as much as everyone else, but she was having a good time. She didn't have to get drunk and act like a fool in order to have fun. Havoc dancing was something of an amusing sight though. For all his skills with weapons and undercover work, he was terrible on the dance floor. Breda and Falman were playing pool, though it seemed as if Falman wasn't even playing since all of the striped balls were still on the table. Fuery had shuffled to the bathroom for a moment. The Colonel was at the bar to get another drink, but found himself talking with the blonde next to him instead.

All of that left Riza at the table by herself for now, but she didn't mind. She kind of liked the buzz of the active bar surrounding her as she leaned back in her chair, bobbing her foot to the music, and took a sip of her beer. The only thing she did wish for was that Rebecca could've been here. The girl was a handful when she drank, but she did know how to drag Riza out of her shell and was amusing on her own.

She was just about to consider getting another drink when a beer was set on the table in front of her. After peering at it for a second, she glanced up and spotted a grinning man standing in front of her. She hid the frown that immediately fought to jump to her face. How had she let herself get startled like that?

"I couldn't help but notice that you were empty," the man said, inclining his head towards the empty glass in her hand. "And a pretty lady should not have to get something like that on her own."

Riza quirked up an eyebrow. She knew that she was relatively good-looking for the most part, though she didn't put a lot of effort into her appearance. Even now, she was half in her uniform, wearing her uniform pants and a snug black shirt, the blue uniform jacket forgone in the Colonel's car. Still, it was a bit of a surprise to have a stranger in a bar actually hit on her.

Now that her original suspicion had settled, she could see that the man was quite attractive: his black hair was smoothed over and he looked clean cut but not in a military way; the clothes that he wore definitely spoke of money, though in a casual sort of manner. All in all, it was a wonder why he hadn't gone for any of the other quite attractive women in the bar. Maybe the Flame Alchemist being here was limiting his options or maybe she looked like an easy target since she was alone.

"Thank you," Riza replied, taking hold of the beer and pretending to take a sip of it. While she had wanted another drink, she wasn't about to take a drink of something from someone she didn't know and hadn't seen made herself. She'd learned how to pretend how to drink things from her first missions under the Colonel's command. The girls at Madam Christmas' were pros and had been excited to teach her their tricks.

Without actually being invited, the man sat down at the table next to her, all the while never looking away from her face. "I'm Ethan Rothwell," he said, as if that was all the explanation he needed. Maybe he was well-known for something, but for the life of her, she didn't know what.

"Riza," was all she said in response. She was so used to going by her last name that it was almost ironic that she could be unknown by her first name.

"That's quite a beautiful name for a beautiful woman," the man, Ethan, said, leaning towards her. He was really trying to put the works on her. Maybe if she'd been a few more drinks in, she might've blushed, but with only two in her system, she just felt suspicious and slightly confused. "Now I can't imagine what you're doing here on your lonesome."

"Oh, I'm not alone," Riza pointed out coolly, waving a hand in the air. "I'm here with the other members of my team. I just wanted to sit down and relax."

"Other members of your team, hm?" Ethan took a quick look around the room, one that most people might have missed if they weren't looking him in the face. He seemed to consider something and then settled his grin back on her. "I don't see how they would leave you alone still, what with how stunning you are. Why, I couldn't keep my eyes off of you, so I just had to come over here to talk to you."

When Riza smiled, it wasn't all that gracious. Anyone on the team would've been able to tell that it was the type of smile that said she was merely putting up with something, but this Ethan character didn't seem to catch on.

"Here's an idea," Ethan said, leaning forward and placing an actual hand on her knee. Riza immediately tensed up, jerking both of her eyebrows up in surprise. Everyone knew to watch her personal space, lest they desired a handgun in their face. "Why don't the two of us get out of here? We can go over to the diner across the street. It'd be a lot more private there and we can get to know one another."

Riza opened her mouth, ready to tell this man exactly who he was dealing with, when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Yet another person touching her without her permission.

"Here's your beer, Lieutenant," a male voice said behind her.

When Riza turned around, she spotted none other than the Colonel standing behind her chair with his hand on her shoulder. His grip was firmer than normal and there was a rigid smile frozen on his face that looked more like a mask than anything else. With his free hand, he placed a beer on the table next to the one that Ethan had given her.

A flash of annoyance crossed the stranger's face, but it disappeared quickly, his hand on her knee actually tightening. If she could just grab her holstered gun… "One of your coworkers, Riza?"

While Riza nodded her head, Roy's smile took on something of a demonical look that she recognized as very dangerous. "I don't believe we've met," the Colonel said, holding out a hand. Ethan shook it, but he didn't look too pleased with doing so. "I'm Colonel Roy Mustang." Ethan wore an unimpressed expression despite the title. Perhaps he was higher up in the military as well and wasn't from around here. It didn't seem to faze Roy in the slightest. "But I'm better known as the Flame Alchemist."

That was when Ethan's eyes widened slightly. "The Flame Alchemist." He licked his lips and finally pulled his hand away from her. "I've heard a lot of…things about you."

"One of the things you may not know is that I keep a careful eye on all my subordinates," Roy continued, not looking at the other man as he fished something out of his pocket. It was only when Ethan's eyes began to widen even further when Riza realized that Roy was casually slipping on one of his ignition gloves. "And the Lieutenant here is the most important and prized member of my team. So I'd hate to find someone harassing her when she's trying to relax after a hard week's work."

At that, Ethan hastily jumped to his feet, so fast that he nearly knocked the chair back. "Of course, sir, I would never…" He shot her what he probably thought was an apologetic glance, but he looked more scared than anything else. She gave him nothing more than a passive expression. "I'm sorry for bothering you." And with that, Ethan not only left her alone but left the bar altogether.

All Riza could do was look on in a daze. The whole ordeal had only lasted a few minutes, but it had been a strange one at that. She pushed the beer the man had left aside and took hold of the one Roy had sat down in front of her. That one she could trust. Roy wore something of a smug expression as he sat down in the same seat that Ethan had been occupying seconds before, even going so far as to lean back and prop his feet up on the table, and tugged his ignition glove off.

"You didn't have to do that, sir," Riza pointed out. He of all people knew that she could take care of herself, especially when it came to some smooth talker that expected to sweep her off her feet at a bar. "I don't need you to protect me."

"Yeah, but I _want_ to protect you," Roy replied in a surprisingly gentle voice. When she narrowed her eyes at him, he smirked at her. He did enjoy playing the hero. She suspected that he charmed a lot of women by saving them from pestering men.

Riza took a sip of her drink. "And here I thought you might actually be jealous."

Roy gave her a sideways glare, but then turned his head away from her. "Did I have reason to be jealous? He wasn't trying to steal you away from me to work for him, was he?"

"Even if he was, you would have nothing to worry about."

"Good." Roy nodded approvingly and then raised his glass to his lips. She thought that maybe the whole thing was over when he suddenly muttered, "But I hated the way he put his hand on you. I should've at least burned him a little for that."

Riza smiled into her glass. "Now that would've caused a scene."

He could deny all he wanted, of course, but she knew when he was jealous. He always wore that same maniacal smile whenever the emotion sprung up in him, like he didn't know how to handle it and he might spin out of control if any anger slipped through. She'd see him tugging at his gloves, muttering under his breath, ready to light up whatever caused him to feel such a thing. He didn't get that way often, but when he did, he always looked ready to explode. He never seemed to realize that he might be jealous either, as the thought just didn't occur to him. It was him protecting her, in his mind, and she was content to let him see it that way.

It was, after all, kind of endearing.


	24. Not There

**Author's Notes:** I confess a great joy in Team Mustang antics. I live for the light moments in the office. As we all know though, Roy puts the "pro" in "procrastinator". Riza is 100% not here for this.

* * *

 _24\. "Not there"_

* * *

It was another day at the office. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened during the day, causing all of them (with the exception of the Lieutenant) to be rather lackadaisical by the end of the day. For her part, Hawkeye spent most of her time out of the office today, running errands throughout the building as paperwork had to be filed on their last mission at a certain time. That didn't help the matters for the men, as they used full advantage of her lack of presence.

For all the complaining they mumbled about work, the entire team sure put a lot of effort into snapping to attention and looking as if they were working diligently whenever she stepped back into the office for a brief moment. This had been a incredibly boring week for the lot of them. Most weeks right after a mission were as they were delegated to completing paperwork, reviewing old files and casework, and the like. It was necessary work, but not one that any of them enjoyed.

The Colonel himself had become particularly adept at hiding just how little paperwork he'd done. Unknown to the First Lieutenant, he had a space hidden on the top shelf of the closet where he kept useless paperwork that seemed to be there just for the sake of busywork. None of it was important by any means and could be dealt with later when he had the desire. It wasn't like it was hurting anyone. Most of them were just request forms for petty things like a new type of lunchmeat in the mess hall or a new way of organizing old files; some of them were absurd complaints like a sergeant not tucking in his shirt or whatnot.

They were an absolute waste of his time and beneath him anyways, but he couldn't pass them on to anyone else, so he simply…ignored them for now, saving them for a rainy day when he had absolutely nothing to do. That way his adjutant would pester him about finding something to do. So really, what he was doing was quite logical.

He still prayed that Hawkeye never found out about that secret stash.

However, on a day like any other, when she finally ran out of things to do, Hawkeye stepped into the office and stared at the closet door a little too close for comfort. Without saying a word, she started to walk towards the door that she'd ignored for the better part of her time here.

"Ah, what are you doing, Lieutenant?" Mustang asked in his most casual voice. He twirled a pen between his fingers though, unable to stop himself, and leaned back in his seat. The rest of the men threw confused looks at each other, except for Falman, who damn near buried his nose into his paperwork. Of course Falman, what with his memory, remembered all the times that the Colonel meandered over to the closet and paperwork seemingly disappeared from his desk.

For her part, Hawkeye looked unconcerned. "I only thought, well – we never organized this storage closet when we moved into this office. It's high time somebody did that."

"I did that already." Mustang nearly winced. He'd said that far too quickly.

"Really." The fact that her expression didn't change whatsoever made matters only worse. Not a single reaction came across her face, which could only mean that she didn't believe him. If she had, she would've looked at least slightly surprised. "When?"

"Oh, it was a while ago," Mustang replied, waving a hand dismissively in the air and leaning even further back in his chair, or maybe more like sinking into it. "You were out on a sick day."

"That's been quite a while, sir," Hawkeye pointed out. That had been an idiotic thing of him to say. It had been years since she'd called out of work for anything. "Maybe it needs a second look after being left unattended for so long."

Before Mustang could say anything further to persuade her against opening the closet door, Hawkeye twisted the doorknob and opened it. Mustang hadn't realized that he'd held his breath until the door swung open – and nothing happened. It looked normal. There was clutter, dust, and cobwebs, but nothing unusual for a closet that they very rarely used. He tried to hide a sigh of relief, lest the Lieutenant realize that the closet was more important than she thought.

After giving it a careful sweep, she seemed satisfied that he had organized it a while back (which incidentally he had, just not for the reasons he let on), but right as she was shutting the door, she paused as her eyes caught something. Frowning to herself, she stepped further into the closet, lifting a hand up to tug on the flimsy shelf.

"Not there!" Mustang yelped, jumping to his feet.

It was too late, however. With just the slightest curious pull on it, the shelf came crashing down under the weight of all the things he'd put up there. So much paperwork, plus boxes and other things to hide the papers. His packing skills had never been good. All of the paperwork flew out of the closet like an explosion, some boxes and an old radio tumbling out as well.

All on top of the unsuspecting First Lieutenant.

Mustang gaped in horror at the sight before him, his hands already held up in front of him in a sign of surrender. Falman's nose was literally pressed against the table. Fuery's eyes were nearly the size of his glasses. Breda put a hand to his forehead to shield his eyes from the sight. Havoc sat completely still at his desk, mouth working silently in shock.

Hawkeye sat on the floor, having been knocked backwards, with her palms pressed flat on the ground behind her. Unfinished paperwork lay strewn around her and on top of her, including a piece of paper balancing precariously on top of her head. The old radio lay shattered at her feet while a few opened and broken boxes with miscellaneous items surrounded her.

For a long while she seemed to sit there, as if processing what exactly had just happened. Then, slowly, like she was rising from the ashes, she pulled herself to her feet, paperwork rustling and sliding off of her. Her back was still to him, so he couldn't see her face, but he found himself wishing that she never turned around, even if it meant never seeing her face again. He noticed her fingers twitch at her sides towards where her service weapons were holstered and he visibly gulped.

"Sir," she said in a deceptively steady voice, "what is all of this?"

"I, ah, I can explain…" Mustang began weakly, knowing full well that he could not. He was damn good at worming his way out of a lot of predicaments, but this would not be one of them. For a moment, he considered high tailing it out of the room, dignity be damned. He didn't care if people looked at him strangely for sprinting down the hallways and out of the building if it meant avoiding his Lieutenant's wrath.

When Hawkeye finally turned around, Mustang nearly groaned. There was a flat expression on her face, but her eyes… Oh, her eyes spoke of how he would live to regret ever shirking a single piece of paperwork.

"I expect this place cleaned before I return," Hawkeye said – no, commanded. Strange, considering that he was the superior officer, but he nodded his head. She took a deep breath, like she was holding herself back from leaping at him and throttling him, and then walked out of the office. He could tell that she was forcing herself to walk slowly. The fact that she had to try was a testament to how furious she was with him.

Once the door was shut – no, definitely slammed – Mustang collapsed into his seat and all of his men let out audible breaths.

"I thought she was going to shoot you, sir," Havoc said, laughing very weakly.

Mustang buried his face in his hands. "Don't count that out just yet." If all this ridiculously petty and absurd paperwork didn't kill him, Hawkeye most certainly would for deceiving her like that. If only she wasn't so damn good at her job, he could've waited for the perfect day and flown through all the paperwork, and she never would have been the wiser. Now… He groaned out loud. "Oh, she _drove_ today."

Breda wore his grimmest look, like he was seeing the Colonel off to his grave. "Best of luck with that, sir."

Well there went his weekend. He'd be lucky if he got out of here before he was due back on Monday morning.


	25. So I'm Crying

**Author's Notes:** This didn't come out like I had envisioned at all, and yet here I am, posting it anyways. Bring on the angst!

* * *

 _25\. "So I'm crying"_

* * *

Riza has never seen Roy cry before.

Granted, he's only seen her cry twice, both of which times caught him off guard, but still, after all of what they've gone through, she has never seen him cry, up until now. Roy doesn't know whether to be disgusted or ashamed with himself for being so messed up about it when she is clearly what is most important right now, but he didn't want to let her see him cry. All he can do is hope that she's too out of it to remember.

It started a week ago when she asked him to help remove the tattoo from her skin. He was startled and unsure, but found himself agreeing anyways. The next six days were spent huddled as far away from everyone else as he could manage, ducking calls from Hughes and avoiding any fellow soldiers that he stumbled across. Every time he got a glimpse of Riza, he practically ran out of the room. It was humiliating, but he couldn't face her, not yet, not until he could no longer avoid her.

Now that she's lying on her old childhood bed, curled in a ball and tightly grasping onto the sheets to the point of tearing them, he can't avoid anything. All he can do is stare down at her disfigured back for a second before jumping into action to help her with the burns he created. He's clumsy, hands shaking horribly and apologies thick on his tongue, but isn't sure that she can even hear him. Silent tears are streaming down her face and she hasn't taken the shirt out of her mouth yet, maybe in fear that she'll scream in pain or cry out loud.

When all is said and done though, he drags himself to his feet and stumbles back away from her, only stomping when he bumps into the wall. He wants nothing more than to be next to her, to hold her until the painkillers kick in and she's finally able to drift off into a restless sleep, but at the same time, he wishes more than anything that he was away from here. He can't bear see her like this, not when she's suffering at his hands. She lets out a shuddering whimper as her grip on the sheets slowly loosens.

The sound is enough to shatter whatever is left of Roy's strength, and he collapses in a heap, his knees banging painfully against the wooden floor. His palms slap down on the floor in imitation of when he used to need to use transmutation circles to perform alchemy, but nothing happens to help her.

That's when the tears come, unbidden and unwanted, ruthless in their own way. They burn salty streaks down his cheeks as he gazes at the young woman lying on the bed. He did this. He did this to her. If she hadn't trusted him with her father's alchemy… If he hadn't decided to join the military…

He has never hated himself as much as he does in this moment. He hurt her. Yes, she asked him to do this, but her pain was on his shoulders and he would carry the wound on her back as if it was his own.

 _So I'm crying,_ Roy thinks cruelly to himself, his eyes still focused on her. _And she's the one who's been severely injured. Just how pathetic can I be?_

But even though his thoughts are self-reproachful, the tears don't stop. They spill out from him, refusing to listen to his mental commands. He falls forward, pressing his face against the cool wood, and wills himself to be stronger, as strong as her, but he can't seem to do it. Instead, his body is wracked with sobs and shakes. He's never cried in front of her, but it's all he can manage to do now.

"Don't…" Her voice is so weak that he nearly doesn't hear it over the sound of his own cries. But he jerks his head up, sobs stuck in his throat, and catches her gazing at him with heavy-lidded eyes. She's still lying down on her stomach, her head tilted to the side, but her hand hanging over the bed is reaching for him barely.

Attempting to pull himself together, Roy crawls over to her and sits down next to the bed. When he is close to her, she puts her hand on his face and wipes at the tears. The simple action stuns him and he gapes at her. He just burned her to the point of scarring her back and she's the one wiping his tears away? But then he closes his eyes and leans into her touch. For a few seconds, she allows him this weakness.

Roy takes her hand on his face in his and sets it gently on the bed. He turns so that he can push her bangs out of her eyes and give her a watery smile. She's already fading asleep, but there is so much that needs to be done before he can rest. Burn wounds aren't a simple cut. No amount of crying will help her with that.

As he forces himself to get up and continue bandaging her wounds, he thinks that maybe she won't remember this moment of weakness. He never wants to cry in front of her again, not because it's a sign of weakness, but because he saw just how hurt she was by his reaction. She doesn't deserve that, most certainly not from him.


	26. Cureless

**Author's Notes:** If you recognize a line from Game of Thrones, that's because I thought this would be the perfect opportunity to showcase just how insanely protective Roy is of his queen - and how that would no doubt piss everyone off. I love overprotective!Roy. I also love writing from Havoc's POV too much. It's become a problem. (Just kidding, I love it.)

 **Disclaimer:** A certain line is from Game of Thrones and therefore not mine. It's, ugh, D &D's - and the only thing I'll give them credit for. None of the characters are mine.

* * *

 _26\. Cureless_

* * *

Everyone on the team knew that the First Lieutenant could take care of herself. She was a force to be reckoned with on good days and a person to be obeyed at all costs on bad ones. Not that they did much to get on her bad side; the Colonel took the brunt of that when he chose to slack off, pester her, or whatnot. For as long as he'd worked with her, Second Lieutenant Jean Havoc knew that Riza Hawkeye did not need anyone to defend her so long as she was conscious. Even then, he wasn't too sure that she didn't know what went on while she was asleep, for all the knowledge on them she seemed to have.

Still, Havoc also knew that however flippant the Colonel could be at times, he did look after his subordinates, but most importantly, he cared deeply about his adjutant. Whether anyone else realized it or not, Havoc was pretty sure that the Colonel would willingly throw himself in front of Hawkeye should a bullet come her way, though she'd scold the hell out of him afterwards since that was her job. Sure, his superior took care of all his subordinates, but Havoc knew he wasn't on the same level as her.

He didn't mind that. They were all quite protective of one another in their own way. Havoc and Breda would tease Fuery about something or another, but should any other officer try to start in on the Sergeant, the two of them swelled up in irritation quite a bit. Falman was even worse with women than Havoc seemed to be, but that didn't stop them from being each other's wingmen at times. They had each other's backs. Colonel Mustang was their top priority, of course; that went without saying. He was their commander and they'd follow his orders and watch his back, though that was pretty much taken care of already.

And even though Hawkeye most certainly did not need anyone to protect her, all of the men on the team were incredibly protective of her. It was probably lucky for the men of Amestris that she didn't seem to have any desire to date because any man that was interested in Hawkeye would've been under extreme scrutiny, and not just from the Colonel.

Besides Mustang, Havoc had known Hawkeye the longest of the group, being the second person assigned to the team after Mustang's promotion to Colonel. She was professional as they came, but when she allowed herself to be open, it was always warm and surprising. Yeah, she was a hard ass when it came to work and she scared the hell of him sometimes, but Hawkeye wasn't just a good officer. She was a good friend. She had his back just as much as he had hers. She'd saved his life more than once. They'd gone on missions together. And she was very good at what she did.

So, of course, he was protective of her as much as he was his superior officer, but he be damned if he didn't know that no one was as protective of the Lieutenant as the Colonel was.

If Havoc didn't know any better, he would've said that the Colonel's protectiveness was almost to the point of jealousy. But it was a really maddening jealousy that he didn't seem to comprehend feeling. Hawkeye was a pretty damn attractive woman. Yeah, she was his co-worker and slightly above him in rank, but he could appreciate a woman's beauty without acting on it. He didn't want to get shot, after all, and he respected her too much. There were undoubtedly other men that noticed this about her, even if she didn't seem to notice them whatsoever. It didn't matter if she did; the Colonel did and that was bad enough. They'd all suffered for that, even if the Colonel refused to acknowledge why he was in such a foul mood.

Attractiveness aside, Hawkeye was a very intimidating woman. She struck fear into the hearts of all officers when the time called for it and she didn't care if she bruised any egos in the process. She was as straightforward and honest as they came, which meant that people didn't always see her the way she was. Havoc could appreciate that side of her after years of working with her, especially when he knew just how far she'd go to help him out, but some of the other officers…

One such occasion happened in the mess hall. They all went down for lunch, enjoying what little break they could get. This week had been rough with a robbery and a murder plopped onto their plate. No one liked dealing with murders, but Hawkeye was in an especially aggravated mood because of the victims. She seemed to take it personal whenever children were involved. He couldn't blame her on that one and so he gave her a sympathetic smile and nodded his head when she chose to take her lunch elsewhere to be alone. The Colonel watched her with careful eyes but said nothing on the matter as she walked ahead of them.

Things would've been fine and nothing would've happened had someone not bumped into Hawkeye as she was walking out the door. No one else caught it while they were sitting down, but Havoc did. Despite her bluntness, Hawkeye was unendingly polite and understanding, but being lost in her dark thoughts, she snapped at the lower ranked officer to watch where he was going and then stormed out of the hall.

That was when an officer behind the Colonel said the most unfortunate words in the world: "Damn, Lieutenant Hawkeye can be so bossy, but ah, I guess there's no cure for being a cunt."

All of the men at their table froze in various states of reaction. Falman looked plain stunned that anyone would use such unprofessional language about the Lieutenant. Fuery wore a positively scandalized expression. Breda had half his sandwich in his mouth and looked ready to stuff the entire thing in so that he wouldn't say anything even if it meant choking. Havoc himself felt a flash of anger flare in his gut and half stood at the table. How dare anyone say such a thing about their First Lieutenant?

But when he turned his eyes turn the Colonel, he forced himself to sit down and try not to visibly gulp.

There, on Colonel Mustang's face, was the coldest expression that Havoc had ever seen. His eyes were a dark glare, his lips pressed into a thin line, and there was a slight twitch under his left eye. Besides that, the man was perfectly still, though his bare fists were clenched on the table. That was something of a relief. He wouldn't be able to burn these men alive at least.

All four men watched in silent horror as their Colonel slowly rose from his seat. The men behind him didn't seem to notice as they continued to joke around, going so far as to make another comment about the Lieutenant that wasn't flattering or appropriate at all. Havoc knew danger when he saw it though and this right here was more dangerous than anything he'd ever seen. Oh sure, he'd seen Mustang furious before – had even seen him and Hawkeye get into it quite ferociously once – but nothing like this, oh no. Havoc knew murder when he saw it and it was spelled quite plainly on Mustang's face right now.

None of them knew what to do. Breda shot Havoc a terrified expression; Havoc had never seen the man so obvious with his emotions before. They had to stop the Colonel from acting rashly, but that was normally Hawkeye's job. Still, they'd never seen him like this, so they were at a complete loss and, quite frankly, terrified as well.

Mustang turned so that he was towering over the two unsuspecting officers, scowling down at them in such a way that would've had anyone besides Hawkeye shaking in their boots. "Excuse me," he said in an eerily calm voice, "but would you care to repeat what you said about First Lieutenant Hawkeye?"

The officers in question startled and jerked around to face Mustang. Immediately their eyes went wide as saucers and their faces paled. The one that had made the first comment about Hawkeye even began to tremble as his mouth worked to come up with an explanation. Havoc wasn't sure how Mustang could possibly frown so deeply, but he did, looking more horrifying than before.

"I – sir, I – I didn't–" The second officer could only manage to sputter over his words, but his mouth clamped firmly shut as Mustang whipped his ignition gloves out of his jacket pocket and began to tug one on. There was no finesse in his movements. He harshly yanked each glove on, damn near ripping them probably. Both men began to babble now and the people around them stopped eating to stare.

"It was just a joke, sir," the first officer finally mustered.

Havoc winced. Falman groaned. Fuery covered his mouth with his hands. Breda rolled his eyes.

Mustang stood still for a second, glowering down at them, and then jerked his right hand up, pointer finger and thumb pressed together. Both men jumped and the second one actually yelped. Havoc was surprised that neither of them had fainted yet, though the first one looked close to getting ill.

"If I ever hear you speak of the Lieutenant in such a manner again, not only will you have wished that I merely had you court marshaled for your revolting behavior, but you will pray that I burned you right here on the spot," Mustang told them coldly, just barely managing to keep himself shaking out of anger. A dark shadow seemed to be cast over his face as his eyes flashed furiously, like something out of a nightmare. "Now get out of here before I change my mind. I'd like to eat my lunch in peace before I write up reprimands for your dishonorable and insulting comments towards my Lieutenant."

To say that the two men darted out of the room would've been an understatement. They left their untouched lunches on the table and the door was swinging behind them before the Colonel returned to his seat. Everyone in the mess hall was deadly silent, but no one said a word as Mustang took his gloves off to replace them in his pocket and then began to wipe an apple on the cuff of his sleeve.

Havoc looked to the other men at the table with him as the Colonel began to eat without saying a word. No one else in the room was eating. To be honest, Havoc didn't feel much like eating anymore after witnessing two men's near death experiences, but he picked up his sandwich and forced it into his mouth. Breda bit down on his own sandwich and swallowed painfully.

None of them dared to bring up what had just happened, but Havoc knew one thing: he would hate to be the person that ever hurt Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye. He wasn't even sure he'd wish the fate of someone like that on his worst enemy. If Mustang hadn't cured those men of their idiocy, then nothing would. Quite frankly, in Havoc's mind, he was going to do everything in his power to make sure that Hawkeye was happy again. Because a happy and unhurt Hawkeye meant a happy Colonel.

That and he sure as hell didn't want to spend the rest of the week being scared of both of his superior officers.


	27. Dependency

**Author's Notes:** Thanks for the review and follows! What a great thing to wake up to this morning.

* * *

 _27\. Dependency_

* * *

It is a well-known and silent fact that Roy depends on Riza.

Whether it's the flick of her eyes that get him back on track at work, the way she drives him home as he passes out against the passenger door after a painful twenty hour shift, how she drops his lunch off at his table when he skips it for the second time in a week, or the way she always, no matter what, has his back… Roy depends on her. He knows that. Everyone in the office knows that. Hell, the entire military probably knows. There are certain things that he's entrusted her to do that he's never told anyone else and she follows him unquestionably.

Of course, she doesn't always follow his direct orders and punishes herself accordingly afterwards, but it's only for the benefit of his good. Even when he points out that her disobeying him ended up being a good thing and helped him out, she still sets a penance for herself. A ridiculously strict woman in her discipline, he's known that about her since their childhood, but it's taken on such a different meaning these days. Back then, she'd flounder if she accidentally insulted him and would then apologize continuously until he laughed. Now, she takes a deep breath, apologizes, and then speaks her mind.

It's strange though. For however more forthcoming she is about her opinion, she is closed off as ever. He knows that it's due to professionalism. They can't afford to sneak around like they did when they were children and he was merely her father's apprentice. Hiding their friendship from his teacher was one thing; hiding whatever it is that could be between them from the military is another. It's not a slap on the wrist; it's dishonorable discharge.

And rather he likes it or not, Roy needs Riza too much to jeopardize his goals because of his emotions. After all, it's his emotions that got him into this mess in the first place. He couldn't put the past behind him, not his time in Ishval and not his time with her. He's always been more emotional than most, though he's good at hiding it under the guise of a carelessly roguish nature, but he does have a habit of letting his wild ambitions mingle with whatever he's feeling.

What he felt, when he took on Riza Hawkeye as his personal adjutant, was that he needed someone like her to guard his back and keep him in line so that he could accomplish his goals. Because he trusted her and knew her. Because his teacher asked him to look after his daughter with his dying breath. Because he cared about her and genuinely wanted to make sure she would be okay after what they'd gone through together. Because he thought that she'd be a great asset.

He didn't have any idea how all of those things would become jumbled up together.\

He didn't consider that those shared nights and days that they had as children would seep back into his bones, like they hadn't spent time apart at all. How he could look over at her and just know that she was having a bad day from the way she bounced a pen in her hand. How he could still detect a hint of vanilla when she was close to him, her favorite scent when she was a teenager. How much he yearned to take her hand at the most random of times when she walked beside him, just as he'd recklessly done on summer nights in town when they were foolish and young. How much he respected her and was grateful for her when she knew exactly how to take care of him without him even saying a word, when she stepped up to protect him, when she put him in his place when need be.

He needs her though in more ways than one, so he shuts half of those things away in the back of his mind and firmly grasps onto the other ones. Sometimes, he lets himself tease her, those unbidden things slipping to the surface just slightly, but then he shoves them away. He can't afford to lose her because of personal reasons. It's not an option for either of them, an unspoken truce that they laid down what feels like a lifetime ago.

He's weak without his queen and he knows that without a hint of irritation. He's spent too many years depending on her, whether it was her cooking him dinner or watching him with a careful eye through the scope of her rifle, to think any differently. It's not a matter of pride with him anyways. He catches her out of the corners of his eyes scanning the perimeter as they walk and can't help but grin slightly and be grateful that she chose to follow him.

His dependency on her might hurt him one day, but for now, he'll take whatever he can get.


	28. Pain & Wounds

**Author's Notes:** I had fun writing this. Humorous during a dark time in their lives. Because Roy is a masochist; Riza will not put up with this; and Havoc definitely knows what's up.

* * *

 _28\. Pain & Wounds_

* * *

Riza walked through the hallways of the military hospital in silence, carrying a tin of cookies in her hand. Not that she had planned on going out of her way for the Colonel, but he had his ritual whenever he landed himself in the hospital – and he found himself there a lot more than she thought was good for her reputation. After all, she was supposed to be his bodyguard and yet he got injured fairly often. Granted, the times he did get carried off to the hospital were all times he had been separated from her, but that didn't make her feel any better.

This time, however, wasn't nearly as amusing as the time he'd slipped and fallen down the stairs while it was raining. He'd been in the hospital for a few days now, already stubbornly insisting that he could leave, but he wasn't alone this trip. Riza's heart sank as she thought of Second Lieutenant Havoc. While he remained the same upbeat person as always on the outside, she knew that he was devastated by the doctors' grim prognosis.

The Colonel had been lucky and while he insisted that he was lucky to even be alive as well, Havoc had not come out of the Laboratory so well.

Knocking when she reached the door, she waited for someone to call for her to come in before she stepped inside. The last time she hadn't done that had been years ago, on the Colonel's second trip to the hospital after getting shot, and the amount of undress she'd walked in on had been both a shock to both of them. She hadn't been able to look at him straight for a week, which wasn't good considering she was supposed to keep an eye on him at all times.

There were her two boys, a table between them as they played a game of poker. Breda must've dropped a deck of cards off on his last visit. Hospital stays could get terribly boring, even if you did share a room with someone that you actually liked.

"Ah, Lieutenant, you spoil me so," the Colonel said once he caught sight of what was in her hands. He set his cards down so he could take the tin out of her hands, immediately prying it open so that he could snag a cookie and stick it in his mouth. With his free hands, he offered one to Havoc, who took one eagerly. That alone said something that maybe Havoc didn't realize. The Colonel never shared the cookies she made for him – had deemed that his so-called hospital cookies were a secret recipe only for him – so the fact that he did so without a thought said a lot.

When Havoc bit down on the cookie, he groaned pleasantly and flopped himself back on his bed. After swallowing, he gave Colonel Mustang a shrewd look. "You've been holding out on us all this time," he accused, though not angrily. There was a hint of a grin on his face, showing a little more once he turned his attention to Riza. "You sure you want to stick with this sop, Lieutenant? I'm pretty sure you could open a bakery if all your baked goods taste this delicious."

"I'll take it into consideration should we flub our goals," Riza replied dryly.

Havoc laughed at that and finished his cookies, though Roy wore something of a mock wounded expression, his lips turned into a small pout and his eyes focused on her. She allowed a small smile onto her face as Havoc was busy picking out another cookie and Roy smiled back at her.

It was her day off, so she was able to wear comfortable civilian clothes. Roy always seemed to give her what he thought was an inconspicuous look over whenever she was wearing civies, though she never brought it up. He wasn't checking her out (at least not completely); he was more likely trying to figure out if she was armed or not (she was) and where she was concealing her weapon. Even after all this time, he seemed to marvel at how she pulled out multiple weapons from whatever she was wearing.

"Hello, boys!" a nurse greeted cheerily as she wheeled a cart into the room. She was a pretty little thing, just the type of nurse that both men would love to fawn over them. Sometimes she wondered if Roy pulled any strings in order to get the best-looking nurses or if they just flocked to him. She pictured a group of nurses arguing and fighting with one another over who would get to take care of him. How ridiculous. It probably wasn't far off.

Havoc waved at her, his mouth full with another cookie, while Roy shot her his most charming smile. Or as well as one could when they were in hospital clothes and in bed. The nurse blushed quite prettily. Riza did not stop herself from rolling her eyes. The Colonel could be so…cheesy at times. Some people might've said that he'd gotten it from General Grumman, but Riza knew that Roy had been like this since he was a boy. With the nurse's back to her, Roy looked over the woman's shoulder and gave Riza a wink. It took everything in her not to let out a long suffering sigh.

"I'm just here to change the Colonel's bandages," the nurse said, a slightly tight smile on her face when she turned to look at Riza. It almost felt as if…yes, the woman was jealous, although Riza couldn't fathom why. It wasn't as if she was going to fight the nurse over Roy. She'd changed bandages for him plenty of times. He was a difficult patient at best, so she was more than happy to let someone else fuss over him. "If you could step outside, please, Miss."

"Oh, she can stay," Roy said dismissively, much to the surprise and displeasure of the worse. The grin that appeared on his face was not innocent whatsoever. "It's nothing she hasn't seen already."

Riza was ready to reprimand him for implying such subordination – and also remind him just who he was talking to – when she realized something. The nurse had called her "Miss" and Roy hadn't referred to her by her rank. When the nurse gave her a rather sour look, Riza came to the realization that the other woman didn't know who she was. She probably just thought that Riza was some woman that adored the Colonel that had come to visit him and was competition for his affections. The fact that he said nothing of the contrary and was even insinuating it…

Shrugging her shoulders, Riza walked over to the other side of the room to stand by the window next to Havoc's bed. He didn't seem to think much of it, not knowing that the Colonel was playing some sort of twisted prank. While the nurse began to help with Roy, Riza fished a pack of cigarettes out of her purse and tossed them onto Havoc's bed.

"You're better than anyone in here," Havoc said happily as he picked them up.

"If you mean by helping you to the grave, sure," Riza said. He gave her a cheeky smirk as he slipped the pack under his sheets. If the nurse or any of the doctors caught him trying to smoke in here, they'd take them away and that was a sore thing indeed. Getting in a wheelchair and going outside was such a hassle. She'd helped him before, but it had been easier to just keep a careful watch on the hallway while he puffed away.

"You're a terrible enabler," Havoc told her. "You know that, right?"

Riza arched an eyebrow. "I've never been accused of that, only the opposite, in fact."

"Oh, really?" Havoc inclined his head towards the Colonel. Ah, so Havoc _did_ know what their superior officer was up to after all. She shook her head. He stifled a laugh.

Roy was sitting upright in his bed, completely shirtless. The man worked out excessively, most of the time because he couldn't sleep and it helped him, but it certainly helped him in other ways. Riza would've been lying out of her ass if she didn't admit that Roy was very attractive. Definitely well-defined, fit but not in a ridiculous way like Major Armstrong, strong, and clean cut. Even in hospital clothes, he somehow managed to look handsome with his dark hair mussed and sharp eyes. When women said they liked men in a uniform, half of it seemed to be due to Roy whenever he wore his dress blues. Not to mention he dressed impeccably well.

The look in his eyes though when he caught her looking at him was almost enough to put a scowl on her face. _Like what you see?_ they seemed to ask.

Riza could only hope that her expression was as uninterested as if she was looking at a mud puddle, but the more he kept his eyes on her, the more she felt herself getting flustered, much to her irritation. The nurse chattered away without any realization of what was going on and wound the bandage around his abs. The man probably walked around his house shirtless (and why in the hell had that thought come up?), so knowing and smug about how attractive he was.

"All done, Colonel," the nurse announced a touch breathily. "I'll be back to bring your dinner in a few hours."

"Of course," Roy replied smoothly, not even bothering to put his shirt back on, the scoundrel. "Stop by any time, Olivia. It's always a pleasure to see such a lovely face in this dreary place."

As the nurse practically bolted out of the room blushing and giggling, Havoc let out a dramatic sigh. "She didn't even bother looking at me once. You're a selfish bastard, Colonel."

"I can't help it that all the ladies seem to love me," Roy replied smugly as he leaned back in his propped up bed. It would've been quite the sight had a white bandage not been wrapped around his waist. Even then, it was a bit much. She wasn't sure if he was deliberately trying to get a raise out of her – or if he wanted one. He was most likely just being an ass and teasing her. He'd done it a few times when they were teenagers, although he'd made sure that her father was as far as can be before doing so.

Riza walked over to him, still forcing a bland expression on her face. "How does it feel?" she asked, pointing at the spot where the bandage was covering up the self-inflicted burn wound.

Roy shrugged. "Not so ba– Ow! What the hell was that for, Lieutenant?" He'd jumped nearly half a foot in the air when she'd poked him right in the wound. It hadn't been that hard, just enough to let her know that it was in fact healing quite well and also enough to let him know that she would not tolerate being teased like this.

Straightening herself back up, Riza gave him a mild smile. "Just checking, sir."

"You're a cruel woman, Lieutenant Hawkeye," Roy said, glowering at her accusingly.

"Then you don't want cherry pie tomorrow, sir?"

"You're an incredible woman, Lieutenant Hawkeye," he reiterated.

Riza jutted her chin in the air just slightly. "Thank you, sir."

In his bed, Havoc guffawed loudly as he smacked his pack of cigarettes against the palm of his hand. The glower did not leave Roy's face as he stared back at her, but Riza felt rather accomplished herself. If he was going to tease her, she would retaliate right back, even if he was in the hospital.


	29. Existence

**Author's Notes:** Thanks for the reviews! And to answer your questions, **DogsRule82021** , there will be some parental Royai to both Ed and Al coming up soon! I've got a few of them already written up. I'm definitely going to write some more and with Al, because I totally agree: there aren't enough with the precious cinnamon roll that is Alphonse.

* * *

 _29\. Existence_

* * *

For the most part, while Roy is on the frontline of the war, he's not in the thick of battle. Many of the other State Alchemists are forced to jump headfirst into the fight, but Roy is lucky enough where he can stand back at a distance and let the flames do their work. It's not much, but it's something he feels both relieved and guilty for at the same time. Not everyone is so fortunate and their handiwork is shoved into their faces, a nasty reminder of just what their dreams have become.

Major Armstrong is already showing signs of breaking. Roy glances away from the shaking large figure standing about fifteen meters in front of him. It's hard to look at people like that, mostly because he can't but wonder why he hasn't reached that point yet. He looks down at his gloved hands and notices that they don't shake anymore, like they had his first weeks here. He's steady. His knees don't buckle when he raises a hand. He doesn't flinch every time the snap resounds in his ears. His stomach doesn't roll when the screams rise higher than the sounds of explosions.

Is there something wrong with him? Has he become so cold that he can't even react anymore?

A flick of anger crosses Roy's mind and he's half in mind to storm over to Armstrong and slap him clear across the face, huge muscles or not. The man needs to get a grip of himself. Roy clenches his fists. It's embarrassing really. They're soldiers. They're State Alchemists. Crying will get them nowhere. If Armstrong can't handle what they've been ordered to do, then he has no business here. If he can't bear the burden of their crimes against humanity, then he should turn his pocket watch in now.

Roy hates him – his pathetic vulnerability, his show of weakness, his painful honesty–

The anger seeps away just as suddenly as it came, trickling out of Roy until he feels like he's got nothing left inside of him. No, he doesn't truly hate Armstrong. He understands the other alchemist. They're just handling things differently. And just because he hasn't broken down yet does not mean that Roy is handling this well. Bottling everything up can be dangerous, especially where his alchemy is concerned. He has to be careful about that or something disastrous could happen.

After rubbing his face tiredly, Roy pulls his gloves off. His flames combining with the sun can make Ishval feel more like hell than it already looks, and his palms are sweaty under the material. Besides, the less he has to wear his ignition gloves, the cleaner he feels. Distractedly, he waves at Armstrong to head back and then begins to turn, wondering where Hughes might be.

A shot rings in the air, so close to his head that he can almost feel the bullet whizzing by. Roy throws himself to the ground without much thought. By the time he's on the ground, he's already rolling onto his back, pulling out the service weapon he hasn't used once yet, but there's nothing to be done. An Ishvalan man stumbles in front of him, a knife raised in the air. Roy watches in shock as blood slowly blooms across the man's chest and the man collapses face first into the door, never to move again.

He's still sitting there, gun trained on the dead man, when Armstrong runs over to him. "Major! Were you hit?"

"No, I…" Roy blinks and lowers his weapon. When Armstrong holds out a hand, Roy takes it and the other man lifts Roy to his feet so easily that it feels like he's nothing more than a piece of paper. He's nearly taken off of his feet completely. He staggers for a moment, trying to catch his balance, and then looks down at the man again. The Ishvalan had come out of nowhere, right when Roy wasn't paying attention. What a careless move. He was still in the field and he'd let his mind wander.

"You need to pay closer attention to your peripheral, sir," a female voice tells him.

His heart thumps in his chest wildly for a second. He doesn't need to look up to know who the voice belongs to, but he does anyways and he sees Cadet Riza Hawkeye walking towards them. Her rifle isn't slung over her shoulders or wrapped up to keep the sand out; instead, she has it in her hands, muzzle pointed to the ground, in case she needs to use it at a second's notice. She clearly doesn't get distracted out here.

"Thank you," Roy says, trying to keep his voice level.

Everything in his mind screams that this is wrong, but he doesn't want Major Armstrong to know just how much turmoil he's in. She shouldn't be here, looking at him with the blank eyes of a killer. She was supposed to live to have a good life after escaping her father's tyrannical household. She was supposed to be happy. He clung to that notion when he was first sent out here, thinking maybe he would find her after the war was over, but then she found him here and everything changed.

"You're an excellent shot, Cadet," Armstrong notes, though Roy can tell that he's doing his best to keep the dead Ishvalan's body out of his line of sight.

Riza nods in thanks. She doesn't seem to notice the body either, as if it's no longer of importance. He supposes that it isn't to her. Warm bodies are all that she has to worry about. The rest are a thing of the past. He thinks that if she ever looks back, she might be lost and she can't afford that. Looking ahead is her only option.

"I'd be dead if not for you," Roy points out. This time, she blinks, like she's surprised by the idea that he could actually die out here. He's blown away by how much the simple action reminds him of all the times he'd surprised her when they were kids and how strange it feels to see that here now. "We State Alchemists can get all high and mighty about the power of our alchemy, but…our existence does depend on soldiers like you. I'll make sure that you get a commendation for your actions today."

"No need, Major," Riza replies, but her voice is softer than normal, almost like she's embarrassed. He wouldn't say that was the right word for it though. It was more like a mixture of shame and humiliation. To some, it was a commendation for saving a superior officer's life; to her, it may way have been a commendation for murdering a stranger without a moment's hesitation.

Roy looks at her for a moment, but then decides to leave it at that. His head aches and though he's hyper aware of his surroundings now, he knows that it won't stay like that for long. He's always so painfully tired after raising hell on earth. "We should head back to camp."

Riza and Armstrong nod in agreement. All of them move to head back, Armstrong in the front, Roy in the middle, and Riza in the back, watching over the both of them. He can't help but think of how unfair this is. He was supposed to be the one looking after her, and yet it's the other way around. How is he supposed to protect her when she's the one protecting him?


	30. Conversation

**Author's Notes:** Can you possibly imagine the sort of awkward conversations Fuery has had to listen to over the years while on the comms? Poor innocent boy. Roy is shameless.

* * *

 _30\. Conversation_

* * *

To the outside view, Sergeant Kain Fuery was on the bottom of the totem pole when it came to Colonel Mustang's unit, and for the most part, that assumption would be correct. He didn't mind it, of course; it was natural since he was the youngest member on the team, though he was quite grateful that Mustang had pulled him closer into the unit not long after he was assigned to the group. The rest of the team took it as their duty to tease him, but he knew that it was all in good nature, mostly because none of them ever let outside the team do any of the teasing.

(To this day, Fuery will always look back fondly on the time First Lieutenant Hawkeye casually started examining how many bullets were in the clip of her service weapon when a visiting lieutenant from Central was being very rude to him, even if it had been terrifying at the time.)

But what people didn't know was that as the main communications person, Fuery had a lot…intimate knowledge about his coworkers.

Like that Lieutenant Colonel Maes Hughes used the professional line an insubordinate amount of times to call Colonel Mustang, most of the time to gush about his wife and daughter, but there was always a bit of code hidden in between the lines or at the very end when both of them were sure that anyone listening couldn't have hung on any longer out of embarrassment. Whenever the Colonel and First Lieutenant were out of the office, sometimes Havoc used the line to make personal calls to a girl he was seeing, depending on how brave he was feeling and how into the girl he was. Fuery found out that Breda was taking care of his widowed mother when the woman called asked for her son by a decidedly cute nickname that Breda made Fuery swore never to repeat. And it turned out that Falman had a fondness for placing bets on horse races, though he swore that he won every time he placed a bet while at work.

The day Hawkeye made a personal call on a professional line was the day that Fuery became Fuhrer.

No one was like the Colonel though. The man was absolutely horrendous when it came to personal calls, even worse than Hughes no matter how much the Colonel complained about him. Colonel Mustang didn't use the line to make personal calls very often, but when he did, they were absolutely shameless, to the point where Fuery usually either ended up blushing or leaving the room altogether. He only made calls like that whenever the First Lieutenant wasn't in the room and it was a good thing too because Fuery was sure she would've shot their superior officer on the sight for some of the things that came out of his mouth.

Strangely though, it didn't occur to Fuery for the longest time that Mustang talked on the phone the same exact way as he did whenever they were on a mission and he was keeping tabs with Hawkeye. All of their code names were girls' names (Havoc had not been pleased when he'd found out that Mustang had been calling him "Jacqueline" all this time), but Hawkeye's had always been the most prominent and main one. "Elizabeth" was the beautiful shop owner that Mustang called whenever he was in the office and she was in the field. Fuery had been horrified when he'd first heard Mustang speak to Hawkeye like that, so sure that she would throttle him the moment they got back to the office, but she rolled with it easily, not even blinking at his antics.

When Fuery had given her a questioning look, she'd merely shrugged her shoulders and said, _"No one in the office overhearing him would ever believe he was speaking with me."_ Which was a good point and very true. Fuery heard it over the shared headset all the time and he was still uncertain about it.

Years went by, missions happened, and Fuery listened through the headsets, gaining intel on suspects and witnesses along with his coworkers whether any of them realized it or not.

Then, on a strange off day where Hawkeye was out on a sick day, Mustang was making a personal call when things got particularly awkward. No one else was in the room but him and Colonel Mustang, having gone off for lunch. He'd only stayed behind because he'd pulled double duty since Hawkeye was gone and he really wanted to get off work on time. Plus, he had eaten breakfast so working through lunch didn't bother him.

Mustang was leaning back in his comfortable chair, his feet perched up on the window sill and slowly turning side to side. The phone was to his ear, the chord wrapped around a finger, and he cheerfully spoke into the receiver. "Oh, you work too hard for such a lovely woman. You should take breaks more often. I could help you with that, you know. I've been told that I have _very_ deft hands."

At this, Fuery turned pink, but he kept his nose down. Surely the Colonel knew that he wasn't alone in the room, though that probably didn't matter to him. He seemed to enjoy making everyone else in the office uncomfortable whenever he was on the phone with a lady friend.

The Colonel laughed. It was so…happy and honest. Everyone on the team knew that Mustang put up something of a mask when it came to the military, if only to play the game to his ambitions, and came off as careless, grinning and laughing a lot, but this time felt different. "Oh, that you would, but I rather like the sound of you manhandling me." The smirk on the man's face was scandalous. "I do like it rough."

Fuery had to bite his lip to keep from making a noise after that comment. This conversation was getting dangerously close to a brazen and intimate part of the Colonel's life that he did _not_ want to know. Sure, they all knew that he was a lady's man, but this was more than Fuery had signed up for.

"Really, now? Well, I could come over now since it's my lunch break, give you a taste of your own medicine," Mustang continued, tapping his pen on the desk. "The Lieutenant is out for the day, so she wouldn't have to know." It was quite shameful how far he went out of his way not to work whenever Hawkeye wasn't around, but then they all did more or less. "No? What a shame. I should be out of here by six. We can have dinner, though I'd like to start with dessert. I'm sure it wouldn't spoil my appetite for the main course. I'm ravenous as it is."

All pretenses of trying to finish this paperwork were gone as Fuery buried his red face in his hands and leaned down against his desk. Why couldn't the Colonel just stop? This was worse than torture. The next time they had a suspect in custody that refused to talk, they should just stick the person in a room with the Colonel whenever he was on the phone with a woman. That would get the person spilling the details of all their crimes in no time.

"Shameless, me?" Mustang sounded innocent as can be. It was nice to know that at least this mystery woman on the other end had the same thoughts as Fuery, even if she was entertaining them for this long. "I'd like to think that I am merely weary from being parted from you for so long. I enjoy a chase as well as any, but this wait is driving me a bit mad." He laughed again. "Well, you're not wrong about that. But I'd be lying if I didn't say that I am eagerly awaiting our time together. I can't wait to hear you–"

The door opened and the rest of the team began to mill back inside, lunch officially coming to an end.

Mustang sighed, looking put out. His game was coming to an end. He usually didn't mind continuing his unabashedly dirty conversations on the phone when the team returned, but he had seemed earnest about being out of here by six, which meant that he had no time to procrastinate.

"Yes, I must return to work, I'm afraid," Mustang said, a frown on his face. "I will see you tonight. Yes, yes, I will do what I can to be on my best behavior, but I can't promise anything."

The phone call ended and he hung up just as all the men returned to their seats. Fuery breathed out a sigh of relief. He'd been so close to darting out of the room in embarrassment. Though he hadn't, he still wouldn't be able to look the Colonel in the eyes for quite some time.

Havoc wheeled around in his chair, a roguish grin on his face. "You got yourself another girl, Colonel?"

Mustang eyed his subordinate with the type of cool smugness that said just how better with women he was than the other man. "A rather stunning one, if I do say so myself." He sat up straight and shuffled some of the paperwork on his desk. "Now back to work. I've got a hot date tonight that I refuse to miss because someone is a lay about."

As they all returned to their duties, Breda leaned over and muttered, "Of course, the only two things that get the Colonel to snap to it with work are either the Lieutenant or an attractive woman." Not that the Lieutenant wasn't attractive (oh, he hoped she never knew that thought popped into his head), it was just that they had become used to seeing her by her rank and not her sex for so long.

Fuery turned his attention to the Colonel for a moment. He looked hard at work, actually reading through the reports carefully before signing them. Breda was right about that. He only focused that much whenever Lieutenant Hawkeye put the fear of god in him. Well, judging from his conversation on the phone, he was really looking forward to meeting up with his date. If she was as great as he made it seem, maybe that was enough to get any man to jump to it.


	31. Home-Cooking

**Author's Notes:** I feel like this one came out a little OOC, but oh well, it's cute. I'll deal with it.

* * *

 _31\. Home Cooking_

* * *

Roy did not cook. He hadn't cooked when he lived with his Aunt Chris; he hadn't cooked when he was studying under Berthold Hawkeye; he hadn't cooked while at the Academy or in Ishval; and he most definitely did not cook now. The very few times that he had tried had ended in complete disaster. One time, when he was sixteen, he tried cooking dinner since Riza, the usual cook, was sick in bed. It had ended up resembling flame alchemy more than anything else, nearly burning the kitchen down. To this day, he was still unsure how that happened.

Needless to say, he took full advantage of the mess hall, leftovers, and his generous salary in order to eat. His fridge at home left a lot to be desired, but at least it meant that he didn't have to do much grocery shopping. What he did have to eat at home were snacks, drinks, and thinks that did not involve cooking. He'd learned while in Ishval that he could use his flame alchemy to heat up some food or drinks, not that he abused his gift for such things often, but it did come in handy once in a while.

But every now and then though, he really did miss a home cooked meal. Madam Christmas had not been the cooking type either, which was probably why Roy never picked up on the skill, leaving it to the one of the girls that worked under her. Riza had done all the cooking when he was her father's apprentice. She did it without complaint and it was nothing ever too complicated, unless she baked something, but he'd always enjoyed her meals. After all, he'd been a teenager back then, equivalent to a dumpster truck when it came to food sometimes.

The nostalgia for a home cooked meal hit him randomly. This time it was a Tuesday night. He walked into his "minimalistic decorated" apartment and threw himself onto the couch. It had been a ragged day spent out in the field chasing after a suspect in a rash of break ins, made worse by the fact that it had been dreary and raining all day. Not that he could've used his flame alchemy on the man, but it would've made it easier to coral him and convince him to stop running. Roy could almost wish that he'd had a day filled with boring paperwork instead.

Just as he was laying there, contemplating on whether he had the energy to take his soggy boots off, his stomach took the opportunity to growl loudly and remind him that he hadn't eaten at all today. He dragged himself to his feet and shuffled into the kitchen, only to find two beers, a jar of pickles, a slice of swiss cheese, and ranch dressing in the fridge. His eyes glared into the glowing light of the fridge and he slammed the door shut. His stomach protested in anger. It was late, so the places he normally went to eat were closed and he didn't want to drive around town in hopes of finding bar grub.

A scent memory from his teenage years drifted into his mind – Riza cooking chicken pot pie, his favorite, for his birthday – and he was hit by such a crushing desire for warm, home cooked food that his stomach growled again, this time sounding so angry and demanding that he looked down at it. But he couldn't tell his stomach to shut it like he could Fullmetal (although both ended with the same results), so he knew that he had to eat something. Those pickles would not do. What would he do? Dip them in ranch? He wasn't a craving pregnant woman.

An idea popped into his head, a sneaky one at that. Sure, he might get shot for it, but he was desperate and hungry and really wanted a decent meal. Briefly considering phoning first, he shrugged off the idea and left his apartment without even changing out of his slightly damp uniform. The drive to his destination wasn't far, just short of ten minutes, in a much smaller neighborhood than his own. He didn't care much for fancy places (not until he was Fuhrer, at least), but being a State Alchemist, he had to keep up appearances. This apartment complex was simple and quiet.

Once he reached the apartment in question, he knocked on the door.

A dog barked from behind only once, going silent after a quiet command. There was shuffling until he knew someone was at the door, looking through the peephole. He heard a sigh and then the sound of the door being unlocked. Behind the door stood his Lieutenant, hair dripping wet and wearing a cozy-looking bathrobe and something close to a confused look on her face. Of course there was a gun in her hand.

"What are you doing here, sir?" Riza asked in a tired voice. Her eyes did look a little curious though – and concerned. It didn't look very professional for a superior officer to show up late at night at his subordinate's house, but ah, well, he'd been careful about getting in here. Probably should've changed in retrospect, but that was in the past.

"I…" Roy stopped and blinked. Now that he was here, the absurdity of it crept into his mind. Had he really been so tired and hungry out of his mind that he'd thought it would be a fun idea to show up at his adjutant's place to see if she was cooking dinner? He almost scowled at himself, but Riza was still looking at him expectantly. Maybe he could make something up – make his visit about work or the case or something…

And then his stomach practically roared.

Both of them looked down at it, Roy twitching irritably and Riza with raised eyebrows. When he finally pulled his eyes to hers, there was a ghost of a smile on her face, a very indulgent one, just like when she'd pulled that chicken pot pie out for his birthday and he'd damn near moaned at the sight of it.

"Well, I can't have my superior officer going hungry," Riza sighed dramatically. He goggled her for a moment. Was she really using that tone right now? She stepped to the side and held out a hand. "How will he have the energy to complete all the paperwork tomorrow that we need to file after apprehending Clark? You can come in, sir. I was just about to make dinner."

In a way, she was giving him something of an out – an almost half-assed explanation for his showing up with the inane wish for her to cook him something to eat – and he took it in silence, mostly because his pride was wounded. But he was starving and the mere mention of food was enough to make his stomach gurgle. Well, this turned out more embarrassing than he anticipated. Maybe he should learn how to cook.

"A moment, sir," Riza said before disappearing into her bedroom. Roy shut the door behind himself and locked it for good measure. He'd been in her apartment before, usually to pick her up for work (so that she could drive them both), a few times to drop off paperwork or pick some up, once to get a spare pair of ignition gloves that she kept with her in case of emergencies. Then there was that one time when he'd showed up drunk…

Roy winced at the thought of that night. It hadn't been…pleasant for either of them in the end and especially not the morning at work after.

She came back quickly, wearing jeans and a loose button up shirt. Not exactly the clothes you put on at ten at night, but she wouldn't put on pajamas either, not with him around, even if they were the most innocent things in the world. He pictured pajama pants and a long-sleeve shirt, but then the idea of her in some lacy lingerie popped into his mind and that was enough to distract him for a while before he realized that he was still standing dumbly in the hallway and Riza was in front of him, holding a towel.

Taking the towel without a word, he followed her into the kitchen, Black Hayate hot on both their tails. "I hope you don't mind pasta," she said as she began to pull a few things out of the cabinet.

"Beggars can't be choosers," Roy pointed out.

Riza nodded her head at that and got to work, turning on the stove and filling a pot with water. He leaned against the threshold and watched her in silence. She had such efficiency about her, one that seemed to resonate with her at work and at home. It was a bit mesmerizing to be honest, like he was watching a cooking show. At the pasta cooked, she chopped up green and red peppers, then put a red sauce in a smaller pot to warm up, adding a few spices to it. She sautéed the peppers before adding to them to the sauce to break down a little more. Neither of them spoke as she did this, though he did bend down to scratch Hayate behind the ears.

"You should really learn how to cook, sir," Riza told him as she began to get the plates ready.

Roy grinned up at her, still crouched at Hayate's level. "Why do that when I can have my own personal chef?"

"Don't forget that said chef owns a lot of guns." She pointed to the fridge. "Grab yourself something to drink, but I haven't gone grocery shopping in a while, so your pickings are slim."

When Roy peered inside, he was not surprised to find not a drop of alcohol in it. Riza did allow herself the occasional drink whenever she went out with the guys, but she wasn't like to drink at home. It brought up bad memories. For him, it dulled them to a vague throb; for her, alcohol brought them roaring to life. They'd found that out the hard way in Ishval and once a few years ago here. He doubted that she'd ever been drunk since. He settled for a glass of milk, thinking of how much of a fit Fullmetal would throw at the idea of pasta and milk, and turned just in time to take a plate of what looked like pasta primavera out of her hands.

Once they sat down, Riza giving him a look to remind him not to feed Hayate any scraps under the table, Roy settled back comfortably in his chair. In the right light, he could imagine them having gone out to eat together at a nice restaurant, a candle of flowers at the center of the table, two glasses of wine next to their plates. The dream faded away slowly, but once it flickered, he shoved it deep down.

After taking one bite, Roy groaned quite unattractively and then swallowed. "Let me get this straight – you bake, you cook, tidy, hard-working, and the greatest shot in the world?" He shook his head, stabbing at the penne pasta with his fork. "Maybe you should open a restaurant after all is said and done."

"I don't know," Riza replied, that hint of a smile back on her face. "Who would make sure that you kept your head on straight then?"

"At least you'd be able to make sure that I'm well-fed," Roy told her. She almost laughed – not quite, but just enough to where he caught it and that was enough for him. Shaking her head at him, she went back to eating quietly. To some people, the silence might've been off-putting, but to him, it felt normal, right. They had their days where they talked a lot and others where they didn't have to talk at all. Besides, things were slightly different since they were alone together. That was enough to heighten both of their senses slightly. "Seriously though, thank you, Lieutenant. It's been a long time since I've had a meal like this."

"You know, women like it when a man can cook," Riza pointed out, her voice dangerously close to teasing. They did not talk about his dating habits or her lack thereof. Most of the time, when they did, there was a sense of tension in the air, like they were standing on the edge of dangerous waters. But now, she sounded amused and that made him feel alight.

"Good point," Roy said, rubbing his chin. "Maybe you should teach me."

Riza shook her head. "You're a difficult student."

"Then I suppose my stomach will be at your mercy one day yet again." Roy smiled at her, actually smiled, and though the lighting wasn't great, he could still see the tinge of pink on her cheeks. She looked down at her plate, pushing the pasta around for a few seconds, before picking anything up.

It wasn't much – just a hint of a hint – but for some reason, it felt like more had been said between them over dinner now than in years. He knew that this couldn't happen again, at least not for a very long time. The idea of getting comfortable with them chatting over a home cooked dinner was far too tempting. The mere thought of it throbbed in his mind like a wistful mirage. Tomorrow it'd be like nothing happened and they would forget about this night. She could do it easier than he could. But for now, he could enjoy this.


	32. Shirt

**Author's Notes:** Thanks for the follows and favorites! And thank you, **ssadropout**. Any review is appreciated, and I'm just grateful to know that there are people that are actually reading this. Well, this particular installment is semi-based on something that happened to me, except replace blood with coca cola and there were no cops involved.

* * *

 _32\. Shirt_

* * *

Things were fine. They were totally fine. Completely and very much…fine.

With the exception that they were very much not fine and all of the men were currently doing their best to avoid looking at the only female in their unit.

It wasn't out of disgust or even that they couldn't handle themselves. It was a matter of respect because the Lieutenant did not need even one hint of an idea that any of the men were looking at her inappropriately as she was forced to pull her shirt off. They respected her enough to give her some privacy even if they were out in public, forming something of a circle around her in which they all stared up at the sky or, in Falman's case, kept their eyes shut as tightly as possible.

For her part, Lieutenant Hawkeye didn't seem terribly nonplussed about her situation. After all, it wasn't like this was the first time that she'd been covered in blood. But when one of the crime scene unit guys told her that they required her shirt for evidence and they required it now, every last one of them were shocked that she didn't pull her weapon on the unsuspecting man right on the spot. She'd taken it in stride, knowing that there wasn't really any place she could go to change except for a shady-looking alley, but there had been a jerkiness to her walk that suggested she was none too pleased with having to strip in public.

With a huff that let all the men know just how frustrated she truly was, she held out the bloody shirt in between Havoc's and Breda's heads, the pale skin of her arm almost just enough to drag Havoc's head back before he remembered himself and snapped his eyes straight ahead to look at a car. The crime guy took the shirt, looking a tad bit shakier after catching Hawkeye twitch towards her gun earlier, and all but scampered away, stuffing the article of clothing into a bag.

That suddenly left them all with the question of what to do now because there was a woman standing behind them wearing nothing but her pants, boots, and a bra. Fuery shot Havoc a questioning look and tugged at his military jacket. Out of all of them, only his jacket would be able to come anywhere close to Hawkeye's petite frame. Breda's would've swallowed her like a tent and Havoc's would've trailed after her like one of those wedding gown trains.

Before any of them could make a move though, the Colonel strode towards them, carrying a white shirt in his hands. Maybe one of the tech guys had given it to him. "I always keep a spare in my car, just in case of situations like this," he explained as he handed the shirt to the Lieutenant. She took it from him quickly. Havoc didn't need to look back to know that she was glaring because he saw the growing smirk on Mustang's face. He shot the Colonel a panicked look. Did the man not know how dangerous the woman in question was and that they were the only things separating her from him?

Havoc was unquestionably loyal to Colonel Mustang, but he was scared shitless of an angry Lieutenant Hawkeye.

A rather polite clearing of her throat let the men know that she was done. They took a few steps away from the alley, but all of them were hesitant to look back and threw glances towards each other first. Havoc was the first one brave (or perhaps reckless) enough to turn around.

At first, he didn't think much of it. Hawkeye was wearing a loose, white button up shirt. It was large on her and hung over her waist, meaning that it was probably Mustang's. She rolled the sleeves up as best as she could to make it fit her better. All in all, if it had been a little smaller, she would've looked just fine. It was a simple white shirt with a red pattern around her chest.

Havoc bit his tongue when that thought crossed his mind. Red pattern. Around her chest.

Hawkeye was wearing a bright red bra and it was showing quite visibly under the thin, white material.

Upon this realization, Havoc's face flooded about as red as said bra. When he glanced over at the other men, he caught saw of Fuery's pink cheeks as well. Falman winced after making the mistake of looking as well. Breda alone looked like nothing had fazed him. But maybe that was because he knew better than to show any embarrassment about the scenario. After all, it was just an article of clothing. A bright, red article of clothing. He'd pegged her for the simple black combo.

Not that he'd ever wondered about what kind of undergarments the First Lieutenant wore under her military uniform or anything. That was on par with insubordination in her mind probably.

Havoc couldn't tell whether the Colonel looked simply content or unconcerned with what was going on, but then the man had to go and open his mouth. "That looks good on you, Lieutenant."

 _It'd look better on my floor._ The rest of the joke wasn't said, but Havoc would've bet his entire week's paycheck that it was being passed through their eyes locked on one another. Hawkeye's lips twitched. The smirk came back to Mustang's face, the kind he wore usually whenever he one-upped Edward Elric. It was a dangerous one to wear in respect with Hawkeye.

Walking past them resolutely, Hawkeye assumed the air of command that she seemed capable of wearing no matter what she was physically wearing. "Lieutenant Havoc, resume questioning the owners of the bodega," she snapped. Anger tinged every word, though he knew that it wasn't directed at him. Normally, she was able to force the emotion out of her voice, but she seemed at least a little thrown off. Maybe it was because when some of the other crime scene people looked at her, they ogled for a second before rushing back to work from her sharp glare.

"Yes, ma'am." Havoc snapped to it, immediately walking over to the bodega owners that were staring forlornly at their ruined shop, completely unaware of what had just happened. He didn't look back either, not for one second. He didn't need to see Mustang's smirk or the way Hawkeye's glares to know that the ride back to headquarters was going to be an awkward one.

But she did really look good in that shirt. Like something out of a magazine. The Colonel had been right about that at least, even if it did potentially mean his untimely death.


	33. A Walk

**Author's Notes:** Oh gosh, thank you for the reviews and follows! I loved them. And your comment made me laugh so much, **Enghel**. I've had this drabble written for a while now, so it's funny that you basically foretold this one. I had a difficult time writing this at first, but then I got into the swing of things and started laughing. OT3 on point. And thank you, **Lin** \- I love writing Havoc. You're so right about him.

* * *

 _33\. A Walk_

* * *

With wavy blonde hair, a devilishly slinky red dress, and make up done for a fantastic night out, Riza Hawkeye did not look like herself one bit. A part of her didn't feel like herself either, but she would admit at least in her mind that she rather liked the outfit, even though it was completely unpractical. She wasn't supposed to look practical tonight though. Tonight was all about looking absolutely stunning and she felt something of a thrill at being so dressed up, if not a tad bit sheepishly.

"Dinner was wonderful," Riza told her date, smiling brightly, "though I must say I can't wait for dessert later."

"Neither can I, but I do have a terrible sweet tooth."

For all his messiness at work, Jean Havoc cleaned up quite nicely. He once perpetually struggled to find a steady girlfriend, perhaps partially because of the man that he worked for. After all, Roy Mustang was well-known for his habit of swooping away women from other men, seemingly for the fun of it at times. Half of the women at Eastern Headquarters gushed about how handsome Mustang was, so it was easy for a man standing behind him to get overlooked.

But Jean was attractive. Taller than the Colonel, which allowed Riza to wear a pretty pair of heels and not have to worry about being the taller one. Just as fit too, even if he did smoke like a chimney. His light brown was a carefully styled mess, but it was soft and thick, making it easy to run fingers through. He didn't dress up nearly as fancy as the Colonel either, but just enough to make sure that his date was the star of the night. When he wasn't trying tired pick up lines, he really was quite charming, earnestly sweet and funny. It didn't hurt that he was a good shot as well.

She ran her foot up his leg, causing him to nearly jump, but if the look he gave her was somewhat embarrassed by her forwardness, he said nothing of it. In response, her smile turned a little wicked.

After glancing at the door behind her, Jean took one of her hands, squeezing it gently. "Would you like to go for a walk? I hear the park is lit up beautifully at night during this time of year."

"I would love to."

Jean stood up first, moving around so that he could help pull her chair out. He hesitated a moment and brushed a strand of her hair from her face. Riza looked up at him with warm eyes. At the door, he stepped ahead so that he could open and hold it for her. She murmured her thanks as she stepped through and took in a deep breath as the cold night air hit her. Almost immediately, she felt the warmth of Jean's jacket as he placed it over her shoulders. It may have covered up the dress she was in, but that didn't bother him at all.

It wasn't very often that she was treated like this. Most people knew better than to treat her like glass and men that did not learned very quickly. She was not some delicate flower waiting to be picked up. And then there was the fact that she didn't really date, so the times that she did force herself out of the box (and to entertain Rebecca's fantasies) were rifled with her awkwardness and uncertainty about how the whole thing worked. Jean actively searched for dates; she actively avoided them.

And yet…this felt comfortable. Their conversations throughout dinner had been light and amusing; their interactions with one another easy and simple. There was a push and pull with them that Riza assumed was natural in most relationships. Even the shock of him slipping his hand into hers, threading their fingers, served as enough to remind her that the simplest actions could be the most intimate as well. She leaned against his solid figure, taking in his warmth and steadfastness. He could be so immature at times, what with his pranks and complaints about being hopelessly single, but she knew him as incredibly loyal and resilient.

"It's beautiful out here," Riza said as they passed a statue of two dancers. It looked like it was created with alchemy. For all that she did not know of alchemy and had never learned, she could spot alchemic work fairly quickly. It came with being surrounded by alchemists all her life.

"Not as beautiful as you," Jean replied, something of a cheeky grin on his face.

She swatted at him, but a shy smile was on her face and he merely laughed in response. He could be so cheesy at times, even worse than the Colonel. When the two of them were out together, it was almost painful. Right now though, he seemed solely focused on her. How long had it been since anyone had looked at her like that? The most she got were the sometimes pained expressions from the Colonel, but that was it.

"Let's go up to that bridge over the pond," Riza said, pointing up at the infrastructure. "It looks like it has a great view."

The bridge was small, but it did indeed have a good view of the park, showing nearly all of it from both sides. Lamps of all kinds were strung throughout the park, for both lighting and decoration. It really was pretty, lights casting warm glows. The leaves were just now starting to change colors as fall came upon them, but they hung onto the branches with their last breath, oranges, yellows, and greens splashing about. Fish from the pond below nipped at the bugs on top of the water, causing ripples here and there.

Jean hummed as she leaned back into his chest and loosely wrapped his arms around her. "We don't have much time left before we need to head back home." He propped his chin on top of her head. He really was a good height. Somehow, he made her feel guarded and safe when she was normally the one supposed to do that.

"The night isn't over yet," Riza sighed. "Besides, we don't normally have time to do this very often. This could be our last chance for a while."

He said nothing in response, but she could feel his agreement with the way he continued to hold her. When was the last time that she'd allowed anyone to hold her like this? She could barely remember. She was always so distant with everyone and kept her personal space. It wasn't that she didn't want this type of intimacy; it was more like she thought that she didn't deserve it. Maybe she was playing the righteous martyr, but she didn't care.

Something caught her eye, and she tapped her fingers on the back of his hand. "I think there's a puppy down there. By that big oak tree. Do you see it?"

Jean chuckled. "Want to take a closer look?" He disentangled himself from her and when she turned to look him in the face, she saw that he was wearing an amused look, eyebrows raised a hair and his lips quirked to the side. "You're terribly soft when it comes to dogs – almost as bad as Alphonse is with cats." Taking his hand in hers again, he tugged her. "Come on then. It might not stay there for long. Looks rather skittish to me. Though I don't know if we're ready for joint custody of a puppy."

They made their way off the bridge, walking on the winding path. Once they left the path though, they tread more carefully, trying not to make any noise so that they wouldn't scare off anything. It was a little more difficult to do it in heels, but she'd practiced doing a lot of things in heels just in case a mission ever called for it. Still, she would've killed for a pair of sensible boots right now.

"Ah, I guess he's done with this park," Jean whispered in a mournful tone as they came to a halt. "Run off back towards the restaurant, probably looking for scraps."

Riza said nothing, remaining perfectly quiet and still. The night was quiet, almost too quiet. Beside her, Jean shuffled his feet. He wasn't as good at being quiet as she was, not having completely learned to read her body language as well as the Colonel, but he was a quick study and knew more than the rest of the team.

Still, it was probably quite a shock when Riza suddenly grabbed his shirt and jerked him forward to kiss him straight on the lips. He let out one squeak, his hands flying up to hover around her, but a few seconds later he came down from his momentary panic. Putting his hands on her face, he returned her kiss and pushed into her so that she could lean back against a tree. He was actually a great kisser. How did he struggle so hard to find a steady girlfriend?

When a man walked passed them, all he saw were two adults kissing in public like a couple of teenagers, probably a little buzzed from the champagne that they'd drank during dinner. From the look of the dress she wore, Riza was quite a looker, but Jean blocked most of the man's view of her. A drunk and handsy couple would of course get a thrill out of making out in a park. He snorted and shook his head before walking on, not looking back at them.

It was only when shouts started to ring from the direction of the restaurant when the man paused. And then there was a bright flash of light. No, it had been a bright _flame_. One look at that had the man reconsidering where he walking to and he immediately turned to run–

Only to find two guns pointed at him.

"Major Ackers, you are under arrest for selling government intel and treason against Amestris," Hawkeye informed. She didn't need to make her tone firm or cold; the gun she held did all the talking for her.

For a moment, the man, Ackers, looked ready to run, but Havoc shook his head. "I wouldn't do that if I were you. Lieutenant Hawkeye hasn't shot anyone in a while and she gets an itchy trigger finger after a few weeks." That alone caused their suspect to pale. At her side, Havoc had his gun trained on Ackers as well, though he wore more of an amused yet decidedly dazed look, like he still couldn't be entirely sure what had just happened.

Ackers glanced at Hawkeye. Her expression didn't change and it told him that she would not hesitate to shoot him in the kneecaps if he tried to run. It was an extreme change from the woman that he'd admired moments before, but he looked far too terrified to admire her now. His eyes were practically bugged out of his head, like he couldn't figure out how she'd managed to hide not one but two guns underneath that dress. The slits certainly helped. She could only imagine the difficulties she would've had if she'd let Mustang choose like he'd wanted to.

After the man sagged to his knees and held up his hands, Havoc went over to handcuff him with Hawkeye still aiming at him just in case. Only when he was properly secured did she lower her weapon and nod once to Havoc. Her partner dared to give her a smarmy grin, even ignoring the way her lips pressed together in a thin line and her glower. Who knew how long he was going to hold this over her? Well, she could handle jokes at her expense if it meant capturing a traitor.

Twigs snapping signaled the arrival of Mustang. He was pulling his gloves off and stuffing them back into his pockets. For some reason, a strangely relieved expression crossed Havoc's face, but only for a moment. "Nice work, Lieutenants." Mustang waved a hand back in the direction of the restaurant. "Put him in the car with the other one."

"Yes, sir," Havoc responded, pulling Ackers to his feet and pushing him forward. "Time to go to jail."

That left Hawkeye and Mustang alone together. She decided that her superior officer did not look entirely pleased despite the fact that their mission had gone perfectly. Undercover work wasn't her favorite thing, but she never complained when a mission was handed to them. Both Havoc and Mustang seemed to live for it though and she felt like she was dragged along for the ride half the time. Still, there was a tiny scowl on Mustang's face.

"Is there any reason in particular that you look like a disgruntled child, sir?" Hawkeye asked mildly.

"I still don't see why I couldn't be the one to go undercover with you," Mustang whined. Yes, whined – his lips turned into a petulant frown. He was doing a remarkable impression of Edward Elric whenever he was given a mission. Making that comparison would only serve to ruffle his feathers further.

"I thought it was quite clear," Hawkeye explained. "Ackers is a State Alchemist and while he did not serve in the Ishval War, he most likely knows you. It would've looked suspicious."

"As suspicious as Havoc actually having a date?" Mustang grumbled.

Despite the fact that she had no intentions of causing him to complain even more, Riza allowed a contemplative smile to cross her lips. "He's actually quite charming once he ditches the cheesy pick up lines."

Mustang's eyes narrowed. "Oh really? You did sound like you were having a lot of fun at dinner. And you _kissed_ him. I can't believe you did that." Hawkeye merely shrugged her shoulders in response, a very unprofessional thing to do, but the unconcerned action seemed to hit Mustang like a slap in the face. "I just think it would've been a lot better if I'd been with you, more natural."

"It went well enough." Hawkeye pointed out as she rearranged the jacket around her shoulders. It was cold and the material of the dress she was wearing did not over a lot of cover.

The warmth of Mustang's body flooded over her as soon as he stepped closer to her. He'd always been warm-bodied. It was something a lot of people brought up as a joke or speculation considering his alchemist title, but she knew that it had nothing to do with his alchemy. As teenagers, there had been nights when it got so cold that the insulation of her house offered little relief, he'd wrap his arms around her and warm her up with seemingly just his body. She…missed it every now and then.

"Ah, you're probably right," Mustang sighed, looking at her intently. "I most likely would've been too distracted for this mission in particular." A lazy grin made its way onto his face. It was the type of grin that he seemed to have perfected and patented. "You look far too good in that dress, but you would've looked even better in that little black number I picked out."

"I'm not even sure if that dress was legal by public decency standards," Hawkeye said in a voice stiffer than she wanted. Maybe she had grown a little tight with him being so close to her, though she couldn't imagine why since they'd been this close before and she hadn't reacted at all. It had to do with the way he was looking at her, like she was the sole thing he was focused on in the world. He looked like that sometimes when he was doing his research, so fixated and unaware that anything else might matter, but it was different now somehow. His gaze felt loaded and dangerous.

"Next time, I get to be on the mission," Mustang told her. "You know how much I hate being on the sidelines."

 _Especially when you're involved._

He didn't need to say the words for either of them to know it was what he meant. Whether it was out of his protectiveness for her or something else (jealousy sounded too precarious), she wasn't sure exactly, but she did know that he would fight tooth and nail with her if he was sidelined again. The Colonel liked being on missions, if only so that he could keep a close eye on all of his team members. His unit was his unit and he didn't like for anything to happen to them that he could help. Maybe it was a little worse with her.

"Yes, sir," Hawkeye responded, saluting him despite how ridiculous it might look considering the outfit that she was in.

Mustang smirked at her. "And I get to pick the outfits."

That would, of course, never happen.


	34. Telephone

**Author's Notes:** I honest to god had such a fun time writing this one. Roy is a dork and it's time he got a taste of his own medicine. **Enghel** , there will definitely be more antics surrounding Riza, Havoc, and Roy (I enjoy those three far too much), along with some Rebecca as well. I love writing jealous and overprotective Roy. It's a weakness of mine. And **Lin** , you're exactly right. Poor Havoc indeed, stuck with some piss poor assignments. Roy's grumbling about the fact that the other man got to kiss Riza - not that he's jealous or anything, oh no! As always, thanks for reading and reviewing! It definitely makes me smile to get those emails.

* * *

 _34\. Telephone_

* * *

"You should call the fire department because you're on fire!"

"Who the hell–?"

But before Mustang could finish yelling as many obscenities into the phone as possible, the unknown verbal assailant on the other end hung up, leaving Mustang gaping at the phone in his hand like it was the reason for his offense. He tightly held the phone in a fist away from his ear, mouth still open mid-yell, eyes wide with anger, and his brow furrowed. Even a muscle twitched at his temple. If he'd had his ignition gloves on, it stood with good cause that he might've incinerated the phone on the spot, but luckily for everyone in the office, Hawkeye had his gloves in the bottom drawer of her desk.

This had been the eleventh call like that made. Eleven prank calls, all in the span of five days, and he still had no clue who the fiend was on the other end. Their voice was changed, so that he couldn't recognize them, and all the calls were being made from different places. No matter how many times Mustang sent Sergeant Fuery on a wild goose chase to figure out which phone was being used and how they were bypassing all of the rules to get to his direct line, nothing came back.

After the third call, Mustang knew that the prank caller was Edward Elric. The calls had his smell of immature revenge written all over it. Plus, he probably could've waved his State Alchemist watch around and convinced any of the operators to let him do it. But then, while subtlety trying to get the boy to admit to his behavior, the sixth call was made. Fullmetal was not known for looking innocent at any time, but the way he'd roared with laughter upon hearing the call had sounded so genuinely surprised and delighted.

 _"_ _I bet it's one of those girls you broke up with,"_ Fullmetal had sneered with vicious glee.

Considering that he preferred a more indirect approach, Mustang had never physically thrown his charge out the door before, no matter how aggravating he could be, but it was a shock that Edward hadn't brought the whole building down when Mustang took him by the scruff of his neck and tossed him out of his office.

Five calls later, Mustang was running out of suspects. He slammed the phone down on the receiver so hard that his desk shook, fuming with silent rage to the point that he felt like he was vibrating. This was normally how Edward reacted to everything. Fantastic. Apparently all it took were prank calls to bring him to a fifteen year-old's level of temperament.

Hawkeye poked her head into the office, somehow managing to look disinterested and knowing at the same time. "Another call, sir?"

Mustang was forced to bite his tongue so that he didn't bark the answer at her. It wasn't her fault that he was getting these calls, but she wouldn't be so cool if she'd been the recipient. She could've at least acted a little concerned that these calls were somehow getting through to him. What if they were threats instead of…whatever the hell they were?

"Would you like me to ask Sergeant Fuery to track down the source again?" she asked.

Despite the fact that he was a grown man and definitely not a teenage boy anymore, Mustang allowed his glower to answer her and he sunk back in his chair. Hawkeye nodded once, fully understanding him, and left him alone so that she could give Fuery the order. His eyes fell on the phone, daring it to ring again. If he could use his alchemy to send a single spark through the line to the caller, he would've done it in a heartbeat, even if it did mean a complaint filed against his record.

Whoever this caller was would pay dearly.

The rest of the day went by uneventfully. By the time he got home, Mustang had forgotten the single call that day. It was unusual, considering he'd gotten multiple calls on the other days, but since it didn't happen again, he let it slip through his mind, especially when it turned out that he couldn't avoid the reports from their last mission. The paperwork helped him forget about the annoying calls and busied his mind.

He'd just stepped into his place, ready to pop open a beer and relax, when his phone rang. He didn't get a lot of personal calls at home (they were either from Headquarters to call him back in for an emergency or Hughes to gush about his family), so he sighed as he shuffled over to the phone and picked it up.

"The fire might be out, but you're still smoking hot!"

"I will _kill_ you!" Mustang roared into the phone. It didn't even occur to him that his neighbors might hear and actually think that someone was attacking him.

The person hung up before he could get another word out, leaving the Colonel to seethe so viciously that it was a wonder the phone didn't melt on the spot. It was one thing to get these prank calls in his office, but it was quite another to get them at home. That was crossing the line. He would find who was at the bottom of this and he was going to light them up like it was a barbeque.

Without even hanging up the phone, he dialed another number. The phone picked up and he growled into the receiver before they could even speak. "They called my home. My _home_! Only seven people have this number!"

"Perhaps the caller bribed someone, sir," Hawkeye's voice responded on the other end. He had no idea if he'd bothered her while she was in the middle of doing something; she sounded as if she'd been waiting for him to call and give her new orders.

"I'm going to get to the bottom of this," Mustang ground out, "if it's the last thing I do."

"That doesn't seem very ambitious, sir." Strangely, Hawkeye almost sounded wry, which was close to teasing him. He could not imagine her doing that though, not when he was so clearly aggravated.

Frowning into the phone, he bid the Lieutenant a good night and then hung up. He stared down at the phone again, this time slightly less murderously. Maybe he was blowing things out of proportion, but he couldn't stand the idea of anyone getting something over him, even if it was something as silly as crank calls. Besides, this was burning holes through his concentration at work. Even Hawkeye could appreciate the fact that he was frustrated by that.

The next morning, he showed up at the office earlier than everyone else, surprising in itself, but he wanted to make sure that everything was set up. Sitting at his desk in his office, he leaned forward, his chin propped up on folded hands, and gazed out the open door. He kept a guarded watch as the rest of his team spilled into the office. Hawkeye came first, only a few minutes after him. If she was surprised that he'd beat her to work, she didn't show it and flat out ignored him as she settled in. Falman showed up next, a book in hand, and Fuery strode in soon after with a box of new wires and parts for their communication devices. Breda and Havoc walked in the same time, bickering about car races of all things. Everyone was here.

Mustang stood up and silently walked out of his office, a cool and detached gaze sweeping over his team, his hands folded behind his straightened back. The men eyed him somewhat warily, though Falman looked more curious. Hawkeye, for her part, was already at work, but when he stopped and cleared his throat, she set the pen down and looked up at him.

"It has recently come to my attention that someone close to me has betrayed me," Mustang informed them all.

Fuery blinked nervously behind his glasses. Breda and Havoc shot each other looks, a mixture between unsure and accusing. Falman scratched the back of his head in confusion. Hawkeye looked as bland as ever. Mustang took in all their faces.

"As you all know, I've been receiving some particularly…descriptive phone calls by an unknown perpetrator for the past week. All of them were here, until last night, when I received a call at my personal home phone. I've only given that number to a limited number of individuals, so unless General Grumman is taking lessons from Fullmetal, I can only conclude that this very private information was given out by someone in this room."

That seemed to take all the air right out of the room. There was another option: that his aunt that raised him had given out his number, but the idea of confronting his foster mother about whether she'd given his number away for a cheap laugh sounded like it might end badly for him. General Grumman was a fairly eccentric man and did a lot of…unpredictable things, but this seemed to be coming from someone he was close with, someone that knew that he did not like fire related pick up lines. He hated being the recipient of pick up lines, even though he did use them every now and then for fun. Maybe now he understood why Hawkeye rolled her eyes at him whenever he threw them at her.

None of them seemed to want to talk. They were probably worried that if they spoke up in defense first, they would look guilty, but if they didn't speak at all, they'd look guilty as well. It was a double-edged sword, one that Mustang intended to wield sharply.

With a snap, Mustang turned to face Havoc. "Was it you, Second Lieutenant? The use of these atrocious pick up lines that you're so fond of is highly suspicious. It could be considered as payback."

Havoc blanched. "No, sir! I would never!" When Mustang gave him a look of disbelief, Havoc's eyes wavered over to Hawkeye, confirming Mustang's thoughts. Havoc wasn't the culprit, not because he didn't think it would be funny, but because he was afraid of what Hawkeye might do should she find out about his antics. Sometimes, he didn't know whether or not to be miffed that his subordinates seemed to fear her more than him.

"What about you, Master Sergeant Fuery?" Mustang demanded. "After all, you're supposed to be the best in your field and yet you swear that you can't figure out how they're bypassing the military switchboard. It could be a cover up."

"I'm trying my best, sir, honest!" Fuery squeaked, eyes bulging even more behind his glasses. He sounded and looked genuinely distressed, like he was devastated that Mustang would even believe him guilty for a second. No, it wasn't him either.

"Warrant Officer Falman?" Mustang moved so quickly to glare at Falman that the man jumped. "You may not have the knowledge on comms that Fuery does, but it stands that you do have information that would provide you with the means of doing this. And – it could also be due to a bet that you lost with Second Lieutenant Breda."

Falman waved his hands frantically, sputtering little more than a few words. The fact that he was so panicked was enough to make Mustang believe that he wasn't the culprit. He wasn't that loud normally, but he was now.

The last man standing was Breda, who looked rather sullen when Mustang rounded on him. He had his arms folded across his chest and his teeth bit down on a toothpick. "If I was the cause of these calls, sir, I'd like to think that I'd be a little more creative with the lines. I'm not Havoc."

"Hey!" The mouth dangling from Havoc's lips nearly fell out of his mouth. He grabbed it before it could fall and shot a glare at his comrade. Breda merely shrugged his shoulders. Apparently their argument from earlier hadn't quite dissipated yet.

Still, while he didn't outright deny it like the rest of them, Breda was right about that. He didn't use pick up lines whatsoever and was particularly inventive when it came to some of the stuff that he said. The lines used in the calls were childish, like they'd been looked up in a book on how to pick up women. He wasn't at fault.

Mustang gave them all level looks, then nodded his head and stepped back into his office, shutting the door behind him. He immediately went to work, reading through missions reports and considering his next move. Their firearm qualifications were coming up, so he would need to schedule practice time for all of them, even Falman and Fuery, who were usually on the lower end of the scores. Anything would be better to keep him distracted from glaring at his phone or the door.

It was almost lunch time when his door opened again. He didn't look up to need to know that Hawkeye had slipped into the room. She had such a steadfast presence that he could've recognized anywhere. She was silent in her resilience to a fault and completely committed to her professionalism. Which was why this betrayal stung so sharply.

"So it was you all along," Mustang said, finally raising his eyes to hers.

Despite the fact that she was guilty, Hawkeye didn't look the slightest bit abashed. In fact, she continued to wear that unconcerned expression, the one that said she did not care that she'd caused her superior officer to stomp around his office like a child. Her eyes, on the other hand, shined with a muted mirth. Of course she knew that he loathed fire related pick up lines. He'd forgotten the fiery way she'd blushed when he'd used them on her when they were teenagers and how he'd never used them again after she'd dumped a bucket of water on him. He couldn't explain why he got so agitated when women tried them on him, but maybe it was all tied to a memory.

"But you've been with me when some of the calls are made," Mustang pointed out, "and it's clearly a male on the other end even if their voice is distorted."

A smile didn't cross her face not once, but he could see it in her eyes. "All I had to do was provide the number and means to access your line."

"Who?"

"I think you know already."

Mustang's eyes darkened. "Fullmetal." She wasn't laughing, not at all, but he could see it in the way she held her body tightly together. If she let herself go one bit, she'd full on laugh. A part of him that wasn't blown away by the revelation wanted her to let go. It had been a long time since he'd heard her laugh in such a way. "But how? He was in the room with me as well when one of the calls was made."

"It took a little cajoling from him, but Edward convinced Alphonse to make the call," Hawkeye explained in a completely controlled tone. She hadn't even gone at ease yet, and they were talking about prank phone calls. "I pointed out that you would automatically be suspicious of him, so he came up with the idea to have Alphonse call while he was with you."

Fullmetal had seemed so shocked too, but then maybe it was because he'd partially thought that Alphonse wouldn't make the call and that the line itself had been hilarious in itself. Mustang could just picture the younger Elric brother cringing in shame on the other end, emoting as much emotion as armor could. He wasn't nearly as insubordinate as his brother. If only he'd been the State Alchemist instead.

"Why?" Mustang asked. This was the one thing that he couldn't understand. Unlike the rest of the team, he knew that Riza Hawkeye wasn't all work and no play and while she was quite terrifying at times, she had a warm heart underneath it. He'd also been the subject of her sporadic humor throughout the years. Still, it wasn't like her to be so rebellious in her humor.

Finally, at this, Hawkeye smiled slightly. "June 3rd."

Mustang gawked at his subordinate for a moment, the date not clicking with him. "What did I ever do to offend you then?"

"Do you not recall what happened that night?" The smile on her face took on a slightly more wicked bite. It reminded him of Fullmetal in a way; it was the kind of smile he gave Mustang before agreeing to a mission and then completely throwing the rulebook out the window. "You went out drinking with Hughes and apparently came up with the conclusion that showing up drunk on my doorstep and using pick up lines on me would be most hilarious and potentially prosperous."

Despite everything, Mustang flushed deeply, the vague memory of that night slowly coming back to him in pieces. He'd gone out for a few drinks with Hughes, who was in town visiting. After a oddly violent attempt at karaoke, Hughes had gotten emotionally charged with the idea that Mustang was going to die alone. Somehow it had devolved in Hughes demanding that Mustang profess his love to his adjutant, so that he could be the best man in his wedding, and that Gracia loved cute, little pick up lines. For some unknown reason (it was tequila), Mustang thought it would be worth it, if only to tease Hawkeye. Like something out of a romance novel, Hughes had mentioned.

Hawkeye hadn't been wooed by his sloppy grin, disheveled clothes, and cheesy one liners as he'd slouched against the threshold of her door at three in the morning. She'd barely been able to get him inside, but once she moved him to the couch, he was out like a light before she'd even finished tugging his second boot off. Neither of them was sure how Hughes got home or how he was so chipper the next morning when he stopped by to pick a very hungover and perplexed Mustang from her apartment.

"Edward jumped at the opportunity when I presented it to him," Hawkeye continued. The smile was still on her face, but her voice turned to a soft fondness. Fullmetal's refusal to be compliant with Mustang had nothing to do with her. "I believe he said it would be his pleasure to exact revenge on you for trying to stain my honor."

Well, Mustang did not plan to leave the boy unscathed. He may not be able to burn the kid to a crisp, but as his superior officer, he could think of some colorful ways to set the boy to work as penance. There were plenty of embarrassing missions to be passed around.

"Would you like me to file a report for my insubordination, sir?" Hawkeye asked.

The words startled Mustang, but then he realized how much sense they made. Of course Hawkeye would pull a prank on him and then file a report on herself, even if it meant a mark against her pristine record. As with any crime she committed, she held the guilt at point blank. This time though, no matter how furious he'd been whenever he'd gotten those calls, Mustang knew that he was the one at fault in the end.

"I think not," Mustang replied as he leaned back in his seat. "Such creativity should not be punished. And you've alerted me to the fact that our lines are not nearly as secure as we've been told."

"I reported it after your meeting this morning," Hawkeye said. He nearly laughed at that. She'd helped break into a secure line for a prank and then made sure that no one else could do it. She was incredibly efficient, gliding between play and work like it was nothing.

"I'll forget this ever happened," Mustang said. As long as she could forgive him for that embarrassing night was the unspoken promise. She nodded her head, the smile on her face even smaller and yet softer again. She didn't regret a single thing, not like he did. The fact that she'd only admonished him for making himself look bad made him feel a little worse. She was worried about his reputation, not hers. Sometimes, she was too good at her job, far too good at keeping things close to the chest. "Dismissed, Lieutenant."

Hawkeye saluted him and then stepped out of the office again. Mustang tapped his fingers on the edge of his desk. Though she considered them equal again, at least on a level of embarrassment, he still felt as if he needed to do something to make it up for her and without her knowing too. He also needed to figure out what he was going to do to Fullmetal. After all, Mustang was an alchemist at heart beneath the uniform of a soldier, and he too required equivalent exchange.


	35. Letter

**Author's Notes:** The timeline is off in this one, but shhhh, let a girl dream. Thanks for reading!

* * *

 _35\. Letter_

* * *

The paper in his hands is crumpled and worn, telling the tale of all the times he'd unfolded it and read it again and again. It's an off white color, tainted by the sand, and the words are faded. He used to worry that the words will disappear one day, and yet he still opens it every other night to stare down at it. Whenever he feels like he's on the brink of something – the end, a beginning, a tailspin of panic – he grips the letter in his hand, the paper trembling, and reads the simple words.

Somehow, it brings him a sense of comfort that nothing else can offer, even though he feels like he's being stabbed every time he folds the letter back up and hides it under his cot. But when he lies in bed, those words sit in his mind heavily, much like an accusation. They dance around, taunting him, reminding him just how terribly low that he has sunk, and the comfort is jerked away from him.

After staggering back to his tent after a mission, his flames still vibrant in the distance, Roy fumbles under the thin mattress for the letter, pathetically desperate. His hands shake violently, to the point where he can't grasp the paper, and he nearly cries out in frustration. His knees dig into the dirt, but he doesn't care. He needs something to pull him back before he faces everyone again. He doesn't want Hughes to see him like this. The mission wasn't different from anything else, but he saw the bodies this time. There were children.

He killed them. He killed them all. Burned them alive, smothered them with flames and smoke to the point where their cries were stolen from them. At least they died quickly. His alchemic fire burst out of control when he'd faltered, and it had been all too much. He'd nearly burned some of his own soldiers. But that didn't seem to matter to his superiors. They'd loved it, congratulated him, thanked him.

He was a murderer.

His fingers finally touch the paper and he pulls the letter out from the cot. It takes everything in him to pull himself to his feet and then nothing to drop back onto the cot, hunched over, eyes trained on the words that he has memorized but still feels the need to see. Eyes of a murderer, and yet, he sucks in the comfort of the words like a greedy child.

 _Dear Mister Mustang,_

 _I can't thank you enough for what you did for my father. You didn't have to do that, especially after how he treated you, but I should have known that you would. Stubbornness is a consistent quality of yours. I would have struggled without your assistance though, and I can't help but feel as if I am in your debt. I know. I can already picture you shaking your head as you read this. I owe you nothing, in your mind, but I've never learned how to accept help from others. You know this better than most._

 _You must probably know how conflicted I am with sending this letter. After all, you've been sent to Ishval due to the decree by the Fuhrer and your title as a State Alchemist, one that I helped you gain. But I couldn't_ _not_ _send this letter. I fought with myself over it, but in the end, I knew in my heart that it needed to be said._

 _I do not regret giving you the key to my father's alchemy research. If anyone deserves it, it is you. I know without a doubt that I will never meet someone as hopeful and honest as you. Looking back, that seems foolish on my part, but I know that you will never give up on your dreams. Ishval may trample them, but you'll pull yourself back up and try again, just as you did when you were my father's study. I've never known anyone so determined and idealistic. I'm not sure those two traits work together, but you'll do your best. I believe that much about you._

 _My only hope is that you will never give up on your dreams. You will do great things – that I'm sure of. I can wish that I may see them come to fruition. You've always been such a compassionate person. I worry that this war might take that from you, so please, fight for yourself as much as you do for your comrades. I can't imagine what Ishval is like for you, but I worry nonetheless. It isn't that my father wouldn't have wanted this; it's that I don't think you wanted this._

 _You're a good person, Roy Mustang. Don't let this kill that idealistic boy I remember from my father's grave._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Riza Hawkeye_

Slowly, Roy folds the letter and bows his head. A good person. He lets the words of her letter wash over him. As weak as he is after every mission, he needs this. He needs to see these words so that he can step out of his tent and be a colder person for it. He needs to feel that she's right; he needs to know that he's wrong. She still believes in him. That is all he needs for now.

This is the only letter that he has received on the battlefield. He told Madam Christmas to not bother writing him and to keep the girls from doing so as well. He didn't need the distractions, he said, but what he really meant was that he couldn't afford the shame. He hadn't expected Riza to write him, so when the letter came, he clutched to it like a live saver. Months later, he still does, harboring a secret so that no one else can see his weakness.

Taking a deep breath, he moves so that he's on his knees again at the cot and he can slide the letter underneath the mattress where it will haunt him at night. He stands up straight, takes a wavering breath, and then forces himself to leave his tent. He must face what he has done. He can handle it now with her gentle words bouncing around in his mind.

In a week, he will cross paths with her for the first time, and he will look at the letter only one more time, laughing bitterly as he finishes it and then lights it on fire to never be read again.


	36. Dog

**Author's Notes:** There were a lot of different ways that I could've gone with this one. I could've done the obvious (something to do with Black Hayate), but then I started thinking about the nickname for State Alchemists. Instead of focusing on Roy though, I decided to focus a little more on Riza and Edward and how protective they are. So here's some parental!Royai/Ed. This is the longest one yet, I believe.

* * *

 _36\. Dog_

* * *

It started off as a simple walk back to Edward's hotel room.

It ended up with them running into an abandoned building with a mob of angry men chasing after them.

Riza wasn't quite sure exactly how they ended up in this position. Edward had showed up at the office to yell at the Colonel about the mission he'd been given. Upon trying to leave after throwing every synonym to the word "bastard" around, he'd realized that he didn't have enough change to get a ride back to his hotel. Normally, Riza would've given him a ride, but Roy had been so aggravated that he'd refused to leave the office. Edward was old enough to go on his own, but she'd felt a twist in her gut that said that he shouldn't be alone.

In retrospect, she would be thankful that she'd told him that she would walk him back to the hotel since it was close to her apartment, despite the sputtering from Roy. At the moment, however, she was not exactly ecstatic to be storming through an unfamiliar and eerie building with unknown assailants on their tail.

"What's with these guys?" Edward demanded, puffing along at her side as he followed her. Despite the fact that he was younger and had more energy than her, his automail was beginning to hold him back, keeping him a few steps behind her. She was nearly thirty, but still in the prime of her life and able to sprint long distances. Running had always come to her naturally, which was strange since she was known for holding her ground.

"I don't think it's us that they want," Riza answered as best as she could as they rounded a corner. They both slid to a halt, looking at two doors and trying to figure out which way to go. She didn't know this building, something that she hated. She did not like not knowing her surroundings. It put her at a disadvantage.

Shouts from behind them made Edward turn his head back and glower like the sulky teenager that he was. Odd since his life was in danger that he would still react the same as if someone was trying to force him to drink milk. "It's Colonel Bastard, isn't it?"

Insubordinate as ever, even when his life was on the line. Edward would never change. Riza nodded her head. "He has a lot of enemies – people that think they can use his subordinates against him." She pulled out one of her guns and slipped out the clip to check it. Three bullets remaining, plus one in the chamber. She noted Edward's uneasy glance in her direction – or rather, in the gun's direction. He didn't like the weapons.

She fought the urge to curl her lips. Edward had signed up to be a State Alchemist. He was a weapon himself, whether he knew it or not. Roy had learned that lesson well enough years ago.

"Well, I'm not about to let them take you," Edward proclaimed, slapping his hands together and then onto his automail arm, turning it into a short spear. A surge of fondness wound its way through her, despite the adrenaline already pumping in her system. Of course he wasn't worried about himself at all. He was so much like Roy in that respect, no matter how much both of them ignored it.

Pointing her finger to the left doorway, both of them started up again, running through the door and down a series of winding corridors. She thought this might have been a laboratory at some time, abandoned by State Alchemists after the war. There were more buildings like this lying around headquarters from each corner of Amestris, emptied when men and women could no longer forgive themselves for their transgressions. It didn't help her know her way though. Every turn seemed to lead them further into darkness, the shouts and shots of guns ringing closer to them with every passing second.

After making a turn, both of them came to an abrupt halt, staring at a wall.

"What!" Edward shouted. He ran to the wall and smacked it with his hands. "It's…it's been made with alchemy! Freshly made, too! Argh! I can get us through, but–"

Riza bit down on her fear. There was no time for that. She'd wondered if anyone in the group might have knowledge of alchemy. This only confirmed her thoughts. On the other side of that wall was an alchemist, most likely not a state one. At least she had one on her side right now and a brilliant one at that. But judging from the way he was fuming, he'd be a dangerous one as well.

"How many men do you think were chasing us?" Riza asked as she tried to find a spot to take cover. The room was large and filled with containers and barrels. This must have been where waste was taken afterwards. It looked like it was near falling apart as it was. Edward wasn't known for keeping buildings standing after he performed his alchemy.

Edward huffed. "Ten at the most." He hunkered down next to her. "The Colonel sure has a lot of enemies."

"He's good at his job."

"How does a man acquire so many enemies while sleeping at his desk and flirting with women?" Edward mumbled under her breath.

Despite the situation, Riza had to fight back a smile. It was true that the Colonel did both of those things, much to her frustration and often hidden embarrassment, but it was as much of a front as well. Roy was clever. He knew that he couldn't outright show how ambitious he was, and so he used his early promotions as a mean to show just how young he was, all the while accomplishing solid, fantastic results. Some people tended to see the worst while others saw the best. In the end, they saw what he wanted them to see, as Roy did with Edward. Who knew what the young State Alchemist would do if he knew that his superior officer kept such a careful eye on him and gave him specific missions that would help with his research to return his and his brother's bodies?

"Has this happened to you before?" Edward suddenly asked. Riza glanced at him curiously. "I mean, have people come after you because you're….close with the Colonel?"

"A few times," Riza admitted, "but I've only been kidnapped once."

A hard expression came onto Edward's face. She had a feeling that he would rather die than allow her to get kidnapped. He was irresponsibly protective. How so much like the Colonel. "What happened?"

"They all died."

Edward's face paled, but he snapped his mouth shut and said nothing, turning his gaze in the direction of where the men chasing after them were coming. Silence was needed now.

How those men died was not important, but she didn't want to taint Edward's image of the Colonel in any way. In truth, she had escaped mostly on her own, ending the lives of the men guarding her and then another, staggering her way back to the government building in order to alert the unit. No charges had ever been filed though. The men responsible for her kidnapping vanished reportedly to Drachma. No one connected it with a building catching fire on the outskirts of town; and any trace of bodies had been burnt to next to nothing. She knew rage quite well. It bubbled underneath the skin of both alchemists she cared for.

"Go over to the barrel near the stairs and do not move," Riza said, pointing in the direction she was talking about.

Edward gave her a confused look. "Shouldn't we stay together?"

Riza didn't respond and merely gave him a solid frown. Edward hesitated for a moment, but then followed her order. When he squatted down, he was hidden from the sight of anyone approaching them. Meanwhile, if she moved at all, she'd most likely be spotted. He didn't seem to realize what this meant, but it would come to him eventually. If either of them survived this, he'd be furious with her. Well, she'd dealt with the Colonel's anger for doing her job; she could deal with a fifteen year-old genius' anger too.

The men chasing them rounded the corner, coming to a halt. One of them pointed to the wall that had stopped them from running. "Looks like Carmen did his job."

"Which means…" Another man smirked cruelly and the rounded his hands around his mouth. "I know you two are in here! Come on out, Doggie! You're used to following orders, aren't you? Yip, yip!"

From her spot, she could see Edward struggling to jump right out and attack the men. It wasn't often that his title of State Alchemist was used against him in such a way. That was more for Roy, who had been in the Ishval War. And yet Edward could not completely avoid the title of Dog of the Military. It annoyed Roy to no end, but he said nothing. To Edward, it was like being slapped in the face with his own knowledge. She could only hope that he could contain his anger and keep hidden like she'd told him.

"Your ammo isn't limitless, Hawk's Eye!" the same man called. "Why don't you come out and we can settle this nicely? I doubt you want the boy to get hurt. We'll let him go if you're a good girl." He laughed coldly. "We only want to have a little fun!"

The wide-eyed panicked expression from Edward nearly caused her to jump. She recognized that look at once: it was the look of someone ready to sacrifice themselves for another. She waved a sharp hand at her throat, telling him to cut it out, and he settled down a little, though he didn't take his eyes away from her. He hadn't been in a situation like this before, but she knew better than to believe these people. Still, they weren't wrong about her ammo problem. Four bullets left in this gun. She'd been forced to abandon two guns while running here.

The man let out an aggravated sigh. "Well, if you're not going to be easy… Carmen!"

Light crackled on the side of the wall near Edward. He let out a yelp and jumped back as the wall turned into a giant fist and leaped out to grab him. The action brought him into the sight of the other men, two of whom raised guns to train on him.

"Edward!" Riza gasped. Completely unprofessional of her, but it was one thing seeing Roy getting attacked and quite another seeing Edward. He was still a child, despite all of his knowledge, and he wouldn't have been in this position if it wasn't for the adults that had pushed him into the program. He was under Roy Mustang's command and therefore under her protection, but it was more than that.

She was scared for him.

Without hesitation, she stood up from her hiding spot and shot the men that were pointing their weapons at Edward. He bounced away just in time to get away from the alchemic stone hand, but just barely missed the stairs crashing down upon him. All chaos broke loose. She used her last bullet to shoot the alchemist that had jumped through the newly made hole in the wall in order to give Edward more time to bounce back from the assault, but then had to throw herself to the ground when bullets from the remaining men followed after.

"Get the woman!" someone screamed, and a man jumped onto a barrel to tower over her, a manic sneer on his face and a gun pointed at her in his hands.

"DON'T YOU LAY A HAND ON THE LIEUTENANT!" Edward slapped his hands together and pressed them flat on the ground.

The floor beneath them began to shake. Riza could only hold onto herself as the concrete beneath them exploded, stone flying in arches to attack the men that had fought to catch them. One hit the man standing over her in the chest, sending him flying through the air. Shouts, yells, and gunfire rang everywhere as people tried to dodge his attack. She knew that Edward was an incredibly strong alchemist, one on level with Roy when it came to destruction, but it wasn't often that she got to see just how powerful he was. He held himself back, just as Roy did, but when he was angry like this, his power came out viciously. For however much he refused to end a life, his temper got the best of his gifts when he was set off.

Dust began to settle once the alchemic process stopped. Riza picked up a gun from an unconscious thug on the ground and pulled herself to her feet. The building was, of course, ruined beyond repair. Men were tied down by stone wrapped around them, mostly unconscious, though a few were babbling and crying out. Edward panted in a cloud of dust, a streak of blood on the side of his head where it looked like a bullet had grazed him. Her heart leaped at that. He turned to look at her, relief and fear still fighting in his eyes.

Before Riza could sigh in relief, a sudden movement caught her eyes. Without blinking, she pointed her gun in Edward's direction and shot once.

Edward yelled, jumping in his skin. "What the hell!"

A thud behind him made him go silent though. He slowly turned around and watched as the already wounded alchemist that had attacked him earlier fell to the ground, a bullet hole between his eyes. Edward choked on his words, staring in shock at the dead man. Riza lowered her gun. Better her than him. He had vowed to never kill someone. She could carry the blood on her hands for him, if she must. That was her duty.

"The MPs will be here soon," Riza sighed. She checked the clip of the gun (two rounds) and then walked over towards Edward. The amount of paperwork that would come out of this would be astronomical. Normally, she didn't mind, but the headache slowly building behind her eyes said that she would've rather slept for two days straight. Still, she'd try to make it as less for him as possible. He was even worse with mission reports than Roy.

"Lieutenant…" Edward seemed to stumble over his words. He had to jerk his eyes away from the body in order to look at her and even then it was shaky. "Are you okay?"

"A few scrapes and bruises – I'm fine." She reached out and put her hands on his head. It was a wonder that he didn't flinch away from her after what she had done. She wouldn't have held it against him if he had. He let her pull him close though to examine his wound. "I'm sorry. I wasn't quick enough."

"You…" His voice trembled. Distant shouts resounded in the room, shouts of questions and wonder. Rescue was here at last. Edward forced a smile onto his face. It looked pained. "You were quicker than me."

Her hard expression melted. What he meant was that she was colder than him. She was capable of doing something unspeakable whereas he wasn't. He wasn't angry with her for it though, not yet, but he would be later once the shock wore off. Still, she'd never begrudge him for it. She didn't enjoy taking a person's life, no matter how stoic she seemed. "It's my job to protect you."

"Lieutenant!"

At that familiar voice, both of them looked up and spotted Colonel Mustang walking towards them. He looked rather miffed, like he couldn't believe that the two of them would dare get into a spot of trouble without him. It was the same face Edward wore whenever Alphonse got himself into something by mistake.

Standing up straight, Riza saluted him, but Edward yawned lazily in response. Roy took one suffering look at her and then turned his glare onto the young alchemist. "What exactly did you get my Lieutenant into, Fullmetal?"

"Me?!" Edward practically screeched, all false laziness abandoned. He was slowly learning how to perfect the composure that came naturally to Roy, again whether either of them realized he was mimicking the older alchemist or not. He couldn't hold himself back whatsoever though. Absolutely no game. He would've been terrible in the game that came with climbing the political ladder. Edward pointed an accusing finger. "This is all your fault!"

Roy arched a perfectly infuriated eyebrow. "My fault? I wasn't even here when you decided to destroy government property under the guise of protecting my adjutant."

"If you weren't such a glory hog, then we wouldn't have been targeted!" Edward shouted. "You should know that your life isn't the only one on the line here!"

"I know that quite well, Fullmetal," Roy snapped back, his voice a little louder than before, but not yet anywhere near Edward's level, "and as do my subordinates. They know what they signed up for, just as you did when you became a State Alchemist."

"Yeah, well," Edward grumbled, folding his arms across his chest, "I'm not here to be bait for you. I've got my own things going on, thanks. And you should be more careful with Lieutenant Hawkeye since she's so important to you and all."

That shut Roy up quite effectively, something that Edward hadn't accomplished yet. Despite the fact that he'd managed to silence the Colonel for the first time, Edward didn't seem to notice it. He huffed in disgust at the men held down by his alchemy, MPs trying to figure out how to get them out, and then stormed away, a cloud of muted fury surrounding him. Just before he was out, he cast one glance back at her and she smiled at him. He nodded his head, his cheeks slightly pink, and ducked outside the building.

"He saved my life, you know," Riza pointed out, but then she knew why he'd reacted the way he did. Edward didn't handle commendations from authority figures very well. A thank you hidden in the disguise of a reprimand was about all that he could handle.

Roy rubbed the back of his neck. "This is going to cause a lot of paperwork to file, isn't it?"

"We still have to question the perpetrators," Riza added. She noted the way that Roy glared at the men being placed in handcuffs. It would probably be best if the investigation was turned over to another unit due to conflicting interest, but Roy would hang onto it out of anger. Breda would have to be put on lead for the interrogations, lest things get messy.

"You are okay though, aren't you?" Roy asked, giving her an edgy glance. His voice was mild, but she could see the worry in his eyes. She could only be thankful that it hadn't been worse. There was no telling what he would've done had either she or Edward been captured or seriously injured.

Riza smiled faintly. "I'm fine, sir. Hardly a scratch."

"Just in need of a shower." Roy shook his head. "Fullmetal really made a mess of this place."

"You two do share a knack for destroying things."

Roy scoffed. "I share nothing with that child."

"Of course, sir." But she noted the way Roy's gaze caught onto Edward's form as he argued with a military medic and his brother and the smile did not leave her face, even if it meant Roy glaring at her if he caught her.


	37. Match

**Author's Notes:** So, finally, an actual AU in here. This is a soulmate tattoo AU, something that I'm particularly fond of. It received a lot of attention, so I will be writing more of it. Not sure when, but it'll be in here somewhere and I'll reference back to this particular "drabble".

There will definitely be more parental!Royai, **DogsRule82021**. I've got one coming up that has to do with Riza and Alphonse and then one with Winry, too, plus more in the works in my brain. I'm getting a feel for it, I think, and not just reading it. And yes, **Lin**! You are _exactly_ right. Both Roy and Edward are hopeless dorks. Thanks for the follows!

* * *

 _37\. Match_

* * *

No one on the team talked about the bandage on Hawkeye's arm. For as long as Havoc had known, it was always been there, like a brace right after her right forearm. After repeatedly catching glimpses of the brace throughout their first year working together on Mustang's team, he came to the conclusion that it wasn't due to an injury. Once that was done, he figured that it was probably to cover up a tattoo – and not just any tattoo. It was most likely one of those soulmate marks.

Breda wasn't so sure about it, considering that none of them had ever heard Hawkeye mention a thing about dating, but Havoc was pretty damn certain he was right. Maybe she covered it up partially due to embarrassment, but he thought that she just did it out of professionalism. Something like that soulmate tattoo business was very private and personal, and those were two things that did not mix with work. Lieutenant Hawkeye was the pinnacle of professionalism, whipping them all into shape in the process, so of course she'd keep something like a soulmate mark hidden while at work.

For the most part, Havoc didn't think anything of it. So the Lieutenant had a soulmate out there somewhere. He was happy for her, despite not knowing her feelings on the matter. She deserved it though for all the work she did. He wished she didn't feel the need to cover it up, but ah, that was how she was. He never bothered hiding his himself, filled with a mixture of obnoxious glee, amusement, and horror.

After all, having the words, _I hope not all men are like you,_ scrawled on his left bicep had not boded well when they'd first appeared and it had been an even bigger shock when he'd heard them spoken aloud. Even more ridiculous was the fact that the person that had spoken them seemed to resolutely refuse that she most likely had his corresponding response tattooed on her somewhere. Tattoo soulmate marks were strange like that. The pairs didn't always get together like they did in stories, fighting with themselves over it as they lived.

Havoc really didn't think of the Lieutenant's possible soulmate tattoo for the longest time until he found himself in the hospital with the Colonel. It was a minor incident really (the building didn't completely fall on him, and he didn't have any broken bones), but he and his superior were hospitalized and forced to stay at least one night due to concussions.

"This is all Fullmetal's fault," the Colonel huffed as nurses came in change his bandages. Normally, he was quite pleasant whenever the nurses came in, but his mind was still taking in the fact that the person that had helped bring the building down had not been hospitalized as well.

Havoc wisely said nothing in response. It was true that Edward's alchemy had had immense results in causing the building they were chasing the suspects in to become unstable, but it had been Mustang's flame alchemy that caused the rabble to catch fire. Still, despite the fact that Mustang was without his ignition gloves, Havoc didn't want to find out if Mustang could use anything else to light him on fire. Once he glanced over towards Mustang though, something caught his attention.

There was a square bandage patch his lower left abdomen. Maybe it hid an ugly scar from the War, but when the nurse went to fiddle with it, questions of its placement already leaving her mouth, Mustang snatched at her wrist. She looked startled, but Mustang gave her an apologetic smile and explained that it was nothing. Havoc frowned and narrowed his eyes. Nothing could mean anything and judging from the almost embarrassed look on the other man's face, it was most definitely something.

For some reason, Havoc's mind jumped to the bandage on the Lieutenant's arm, but that was such a strange leap of logic that he dismissed it. Most likely, if it was a soulmate tattoo mark, Mustang didn't want just any pretty girl to see it. As everyone knew, the soulmate tattoo mark didn't come at the same time for everyone. His own parents' had told him that their marks didn't appear until two years after they'd first met. One couple he knew didn't have marks until after they were married and it was at separate times. It was rare, since most people gained their marks before they met their soulmate and at the same time, but not uncommon. Mustang did have a pretty active love life, so he probably didn't want any girl to know that they weren't the one.

 _What a sly bastard,_ Havoc thought with a snort, leaning back in his bed to wait for his turn for the nurse to come bother him. He didn't care if she saw his soulmate tattoo mark, being proud of it himself. At least he had one. He'd been worried for the longest time that he wouldn't be and spent his teenage years getting teased for it coming so late. Everyone reacted to the mark differently.

The next morning, Havoc awoke to the door slamming open and he jumped in his bed.

"Excuse me?" Mustang grumbled from his bed, throwing the blanket over his head like a child.

Havoc rubbed his eyes and then nearly gulped when he spotted a rather angry-looking Rebecca Catalina standing in the doorway, huffing as if she'd run all the way here. Behind her was Hawkeye naturally, her best friend and partner in giving men hell. Of course the two of them would be here so early in the morning. He gave Rebecca a sheepish grin. "Good morning, Second Lieutenant."

"Don't you 'Second Lieutenant' me, you idiot," Rebecca snapped furiously, pointing a finger at him. Not for the first time did Havoc thank a higher power that she did not jump to her gun as Hawkeye did. "Were you even planning on telling me that you were in the hospital?"

"Er…no?" Havoc, for all his keen skills at field and undercover work, knew better than to lie to a woman, especially one that could be as temperamental as Rebecca and owned multiple weapons. Still, he probably could have done with some lessons in softer approaches. Maybe the Colonel could teach him.

Rebecca took a deep, infuriating breath and then stomped over to him. Hawkeye slipped in after, shutting the door quietly, and walked over to the Colonel's bed. Havoc shot Mustang a slightly panicked look (he knew how to deal with angry women better than Havoc), but the man was preoccupied talking to Hawkeye, so he was forced to look Rebecca in the face. She wore a furious look, but there was a film of tears in her eyes, like she'd been fighting the urge to cry. A tinge of guilt flickered in him and he sunk in his bed.

"I was worried," Rebecca mumbled, a strange difference from the anger on her face. She glanced away from his face then and looked down at her shoes, anywhere but his bare arm. He always marveled at how much she refused to acknowledge her words printed on his skin. "I wouldn't have even known if Riza hadn't mentioned anything and then I heard about that building collapse and I…"

Scratching the back of his head, Havoc sighed. "Ah, hell, look, I'm sorry, Rebecca. It wasn't that big of a deal, I swear" – the sharp look at him told him that she thought differently – "and I didn't want to worry you, so that's why I didn't let you know. Clearly, that was a mistake on my part." Unlike a certain Colonel, Havoc was pretty good at owning up to his mistakes. He was stubborn, but not anywhere near Mustang's level and not when it came to Rebecca, for however much she was with him.

She seemed to melt in response, the anger sliding away from her, and sat down at the edge of his bed, taking his hand in hers. A spark shot up his arm whenever she did that. It happened at random, sometimes when she'd been drinking or when she was in an oddly good mood, but he enjoyed it every time.

"Ugh," Mustang grumped from his side of the room, "please get me out of here, Lieutenant, before it turns all mushy. I have to deal with that enough thanks to Hughes."

At his bedside, Hawkeye rolled her eyes just a hair and then handed him his hospital shirt. "Yes, sir. We can get you breakfast in the cafeteria. A walk will probably do you some good."

Havoc noted that Hawkeye did not look at Mustang directly when she held out the shirt, so as to not look at his bare chest. Maybe it was out of modesty or professionalism, but Havoc couldn't help but get the distinct feeling that it was out of discomfort and not because her superior officer was standing shirtless next to her. Once fully clothed and in shoes, Mustang promised to bring Havoc something back and his two superior officers stepped out of the hospital room.

Havoc stared at the door for a few more seconds. "Hm."

"What's that face for?" Rebecca asked.

"You've known the First Lieutenant for a while, haven't you?"

"Well sure," Rebecca replied, "known her since the Academy." She tilted her head. "Why do you ask?"

Havoc made sure to look the woman in the face, so he could tell better whether she lied to him or not. "Has she always worn that brace on her arm?"

"Actually…" Rebecca shook her head. "No, she hasn't." Before Havoc could ask her another question, she tapped him on the arm, right next to his soulmate tattoo. "And considering you're asking, you probably more or less know what's underneath. I won't tell you what it says – I doubt more than three people know – but I can tell you that she didn't start wearing the brace until after she came back from Ishval."

"She doesn't want people to see it," Havoc said in a mild tone. Rebecca nodded her head this time. That much he'd already known, but it did give him a few more clues. She'd allowed the tattoo to be seen before being sent to war. Maybe she felt guilt at having a soulmate; maybe she believed that she didn't deserve one. Both Hawkeye and Mustang were excellent at punishing themselves over the past, though neither one would talk about it. That comparison sprung something up again. "The Colonel has one as well that he doesn't want people to see. I didn't know of it until yesterday, but I'm almost positive of it."

A contemplative look crossed Rebecca's face. "Those two do a lot of hiding."

"You don't think…?" Havoc let the question die midway. The Lieutenant and the Colonel? Could they possibly be hiding more than just their soulmate tattoo marks? After all, there were the laws against anti-fraternization and even if no one but them would be able to tell that their tattoos matched with one another, it could raise complications. Maybe it said their names. That would've made things obvious. He couldn't imagine what it would've been like to have someone's name as a soulmate mark. It'd be like a brand, a tale of ownership.

Rebecca sighed and only shook her head, but for some reason, he knew that she was only telling him that she couldn't say anything and not that his assumption was incorrect. Everything slid into place, but the future felt jagged and unsure. If Mustang and Hawkeye had matching soulmate marks, it would make things a lot stranger for the both of them. It made perfect sense that they'd hide their tattoos at work.

All of a sudden, Havoc felt incredibly grateful that his own wasn't so complicated, even if he and Rebecca seemed to be rockier than a mountain. He at least knew that she was his, if not now, then one day. He smiled, squeezing her hand, and she harrumphed at him, a hint of her anger at him from earlier returning, but that only managed to make him laugh.


	38. Mischief

**Author's Notes:** Thanks for reading and the follows! And thank you, **ceemu**. There will be more of this, I promise. I haven't written a follow-up yet (and I'm quite a bit ahead), but there will be at least one more. This one is light as well and has some moments with Riza and the precious cinnamon roll that is Alphonse, just as I promised. More of that to come as well!

* * *

 _38\. Mischief_

* * *

It would be an understatement to say that Valentine's Day was not one of Riza's favorite holidays. She woke up that morning, fully intending on not allowing this day to be any different from the rest, and acted as such. Unlike many of the other women in the military, she didn't change her make-up routine for the day, opting for her typical regime that was natural and helped make her look more alert. No cute pink lipstick or rogue, no adding volume to her eyelashes. If she could stay away from the colors pink and red for the entire day, she'd be happier.

Upon walking into Eastern Headquarters, she did not glance at a single person in the building. Normally, she wasn't so closed or distant, but every time her eyes roved near someone, they opened their mouth and she could just hear them wishing her well for a day that meant nothing to her. Upon snapping her eyes forward, they'd shut their mouths and continue on. All she had to do was get through an entire day without anyone, male or female, acting silly with her.

It wasn't that she was bitter about being lonely or whatever. The whole affair trifled her. It caused half the people to become distracted and glum (especially Havoc, he was the worst offender possible); and the other half became wildly mushy and lovey-dovey (she refused to be around Hughes on this day, even more so than the Colonel). There was nothing special about this day – never had been and never would. She'd never celebrated it before and she wasn't about to begin.

(She most certainly did not think about that time when she was a teenager and Roy transmuted her all sorts of bouquets and gifts throughout the day. It was the one time he'd managed to cook something decent for dinner – or so she'd thought until he'd confessed to getting take out. And then when they'd gone to the top of the hill near her house to look at the stars… )

No, she'd never cared for this day, not once in her life.

When she stepped into the office, she wasn't surprised to find that she was the first one to arrive. Falman came right after her, clutching a suspicious bit of chocolate along with a research book. Fuery came in next, blushing to his roots and tight-lipped. Breda strode in looking a little smugger than normal, which made more sense when Havoc came in right after, practically dragging himself across the floor and looking distraught already. It wasn't even eight yet.

All of them were hard at work, silent, if only because all the men seemed painfully conscious of how much Riza did not enjoy this day, when Roy sauntered out of his office. She connected eyes with him for only a second, but the smirk widening on his face nearly made her scowl and she jerked her eyes back to her paperwork. He knew how much she hated this day. It was like Christmas to him though. He got more presents than any woman she'd ever known, and he was known for sharing them with his subordinates, taking sadistic pleasure in seeing how long it took before her façade broke.

"Since it's a Friday and such a special day," Roy began, hands clasped behind his back, "I've decided that if nothing comes up and we're able to work diligently throughout the day, we can all leave early."

A wave of conflicting emotions rolled over Riza as the men in the office began to cheer. On one hand, she didn't like the idea of slacking off one bit, but if they did press through and work together, they would, in theory, might be able to get enough work done so that they could leave early. On the other hand, if they got to leave early, then she could rush home and stay away from people and their ridiculousness for the rest of the day, so she honestly wasn't sure if she cared this time if they didn't complete every last bit of work of the day. It was complicated thought process indeed.

Waving her pen between her fingers, she waited for Roy to disappear back into his office before raising her eyes. All at once, the men dropped what they were doing and began to talk. So much for working hard in order to get out of here early. She'd make them work through lunch if it meant going home and not talking to a single person outside of the unit.

"So, got any plans with the girl from the sandwich shop?" Breda asked, turning on Fuery with a wide, knowing smirk.

Fuery turned red again and mumbled something under his breath that Riza couldn't here, but it was apparently loud enough for Breda, who guffawed loudly. They teased Fuery something awful when it came to the girl that always seemed to be working whenever they sent him to get sandwiches so that they could work from the office during lunch time. It occurred to Riza then that if she did have them work through lunch, she would be somewhat responsible for Fuery encountering the girl on this not-so-special day. She could already hear Roy sighing about what a matchmaker she was.

"What about you, Breda?" Falman asked, though it was more curious than mocking.

Breda leaned back in his chair, smug as can be, reminding her distantly of Roy whenever he felt particularly pleased with himself. "I've got a date."

"Oh?" Falman raised his eyebrows. "With who?"

Before Breda could answer, Havoc burst in, throwing his hands in the air. "Why did you have to ask her out, Breda? You knew that I had a crush on her! I expect this of the _Colonel_ , but not _you_! And on this day, too! Why, you're nothing but a— but a traitor!"

Breda's guffawing started again as Havoc continued to throw every insult in the book at him that was usually reserved for Roy whenever he up and swept a girl out of another officer's arm. The man was absolutely horrid about doing that, like he thought it was game, even though the relationship never lasted long. It had happened a few times to Havoc, though he never held a grudge against either the Colonel or the woman, but he looked rather wounded that Breda had done it to him this time.

"What can I say?" Breda laughed. "I guess she needed more man to love."

Riza shook her head as the arguing continued and focused on her work. Soon enough, the rest would follow suit, Falman quicker than the rest. She bent over to pull an old case file out of the bottom drawer of her desk and then stopped when she saw what was in the drawer. On top of the file was a box of chocolates (her favorite kind, too, dark chocolate filled with coconut, not that she'd ever tell anyone) with a note that read: _Dark chocolate because you're too sweet as it is._

She pulled the box out of the drawer and plopped it on top of her desk, standing up as she did so. "Does anyone have any idea how this came to be in my desk?" she demanded in a dangerously calm voice.

Havoc immediately stopped arguing with Breda and glanced at the chocolates. Upon realizing what it was, he tensed up and looked like he was considering running out of the office. "No, Lieutenant," he replied shakily. When she turned her gaze on him, he blurted out, "And no one in here would dare pull a prank on you like that! Some of us might be idiots" – he shot a glare at Breda – "but we know better than that."

Giving them all considering looks, Riza sat back down and shoved the chocolates back in the drawer. "If I find out that any of you were involved in this…mischief, I'll give you a taste of just how _sweet_ I can be." With the threat laid out bare on the table, all of the men nodded their heads quickly and set to work. Although she had not intended to put some wind in their sails, it had that along with the desired effect. She was not going to eat those chocolates, no matter how delicious and expensive they might be.

Around noon, all of men, including Roy, stepped out of the office for lunch. They were making surprisingly great progress, which meant that they didn't have to push through. Riza hesitated on going to the cafeteria though. She didn't know if she could avoid anyone saying anything to her and she would overhear people talking and gushing about this or that. She was not bitter. It was just irritating. Without saying anything to the rest of the team, she held back and then went over to the sandwich shop instead. Of course, Fuery was there, though instead of talking to the girl at the counter, he was hiding behind an upside down newspaper.

Shaking her head, Riza ordered a sandwich and then headed back to the office. She'd work through lunch, maybe help them get ahead. However, upon opening the door, she was stunned to find that there was a vase full of roses on her desk. They were a deep red with bright yellow tips. She hissed at the sight as she jerked the door shut behind her and then made her way to her desk. At first, she didn't know what to do. Throw them out? Maybe she could give them to Havoc and tell him to give them away to the first woman that caught his attention for more than five seconds. She certainly wasn't going to leave them on her desk.

A card tucked in the bouquet caught her eyes. She set her sandwich down and plucked the card out from between the roses and flicked it open. _Roses for a woman too beautiful to describe._ The breath was taken right out of her; she was so infuriated and flabbergasted. Who the hell was doing this? Anyone that knew her well enough to give her a gift knew better than to send her such things on Valentine's Day. Riza liked to think that she was a sensible and unflappable person, but she felt the strong urge to use her guns right about now.

"Oh, those are very pretty flowers, Lieutenant!"

Riza rounded on the voice, the note crumpled in her hand, but froze when she spotted an armored head peering through the doorway. It was only Alphonse Elric, probably the one person in the entire state of Amestris that she wouldn't snap at for bothering her about this day. He didn't know any better and he was such an earnestly sweet boy despite his circumstances.

She relaxed immediately and clasped her hands behind her back, hiding the note from view. "Yes…" She glanced back at the roses, noticing just how colorful they were, a bit like a campfire. "Yes they are, Alphonse."

Alphonse stepped further into the office and walked towards her so that he could get a better look at them himself. When he fingered a rose, the flower was dwarfed by his hand, but he was gentle, much more so than she could've ever been. "Who are they from?"

The note seemed to burn in her hand. "I'm not for certain."

"Really?" If armor could blush, she was almost positive that Alphonse would've been bright red. "You've got a secret admirer then?"

"I–" Riza bit down on her tongue.

He didn't know, she reminded herself, and besides, he was a child. In that suit of armor, he couldn't enjoy many of the simple things that the rest of them could. Distantly, she wondered if he had ever experienced a child-like crush before and she felt a stab of hurt. Here she was, acting like a bitter old woman over chocolates, flowers, and public displays of affection when Alphonse couldn't even enjoy any of those things without a human body. It was strange how quick she could go from angry to guilty when it came to the Elric brothers.

Riza smiled gently. "Maybe I do, but I think it's someone just playing a prank."

Alphonse gasped and pulled his hand away to form a loose fist. "Why would anyone give you Valentine's Day gifts as a prank? That sounds cruel. And you're very pretty and nice, Lieutenant!" Unlike Edward, the younger Elric brother didn't panic with embarrassment at his admission and start to shout incoherently. Alphonse honestly believed those things about her character.

For the first time in what felt like her entire life, Riza could not bring it in herself to hate this day.

"It's nothing," Riza explained away, "just a bit of office fun because I'm one of the few female officers here. To be honest, Alphonse, I'm not particularly…fond of this holiday."

"Oh." Alphonse dropped his hands to his side and looked down at his feet. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to–"

Riza laid a hand on his arm. "You don't need to apologize, Alphonse. You didn't know. And you've actually made me feel a little better, so thank you." This time, when the boy shuffled, she could tell that he was feeling a hint of shy, childish embarrassment. He did so much and he looked nothing like a young boy, but moments like these really made her remember. "If you could do me one more favor?"

"Of course, Lieutenant."

She picked up the vase and held it out to him. "If you could take these, please." He took the flowers from her without questioning. Since it was a prank and she didn't like this holiday, there was good reason that she would not want the roses on her desk as a reminder. "Give them to some of the other female officers. I'm sure it will brighten their day."

Alphonse nodded his head and bid her a good afternoon, leaving the office. No doubt the shy boy would make a few of the other officers smile in delight. Riza sighed and collapsed into her seat once the door was shut. If she kept working, she'd be able to get out of here early without any more incidences. She unfolded her hand and looked at the note again. It was typed, so that she couldn't discern the handwriting. Maybe it was nothing, but she couldn't help but get the feeling that it was because this so-called "secret admirer" didn't want her to know who he or she was, and she would've recognized their handwriting.

Lost in thought, Riza didn't notice when the door opened again. It was only when another voice spoke up did she realize that she wasn't alone in the room anymore. "You know, I could've sworn that I saw Alphonse Elric leave the office holding a bunch of roses." The Colonel was standing before her, wearing a curious expression.

"Someone thought it would be amusing to give me flowers," Riza told him. "Since I have no a place for them on my desk, I thought it best to give them away for other people to enjoy."

Roy didn't blink, but the way he focused on her made her feel strangely hot. "You didn't like them?"

"They were…pretty," Riza admitted, almost begrudgingly, "but I've no need for flowers, especially not from someone that doesn't seem to have the courage to outright tell me who they are."

"Secret admirers are supposed to be romantic and mysterious, are they not?" Roy asked, his tone bordering somewhere between teasing and flustered. It was a strange combination. Still, he kept his facial expression fairly neutral.

Riza scoffed. "Perhaps, if this one didn't use cheesy one-liners out of Havoc's book."

For some reason, Roy gave a barely discernible frown. Some people might've thought that he was still passive, but she'd known him for too long to make that mistake. "You don't think it's Havoc, do you?"

"Of course not." Riza looked over at the empty chair. The poor man was distraught over the fact that Breda had somehow managed to snag his latest crush away, but he wasn't suicidal to the point where he'd start flowering his attentions on her on this day. "He may act like a girl crazy sap, but he's not an idiot."

"Those flowers were far too classy and expensive for something Havoc would give anyways," Roy pointed out, turning on his heels and walking into his office. Riza blinked. She hadn't even thought of how much the roses might have cost, though she knew how costly the chocolates sitting in her desk were. Before he shut the door, Roy stopped to look back at her. "No worries, Lieutenant. I won't let any of them slack, so we'll be able to get out of here soon enough."

"Yes, sir," Riza replied, her words of thanks not spoken aloud. He understood her though, nodding his head, and then shut the door.

Leaning back in her chair, Riza opened the drawer and pulled out the chocolates once more. She fiddled with the box, looking at the cheesy note on top, and then opened it, so that she could pick a chocolate out and pop it in her mouth. It wouldn't hurt to have desert before her lunch. After all, they were from that really nice sweets shop right by Roy's house. It'd be a shame to let them go to waste.


	39. Sly Person

**Author's Notes:** Thank you so much, **Enghel**! Also, I hope I don't disappoint later on. This one came out differently than I anticipated, but the characters kind of took a mind of their own.

* * *

 _39\. Sly Person_

* * *

Roy had heard the rumors about the General Grumman before being transferred to East City, but he knew firsthand that rumors could only be taken with a grain of salt. Even then, if you shook the salt shaker enough, something came out of it. Everyone in the military had rumors flying around them. Not even a commanding officer could get out of the military rumor mill unscathed. Roy knew that from experience.

There were the ones that said Roy was notorious for stealing officers' girlfriends or that he was the product of an affair between a commanding officer and a Xingese noblewoman or that he pretended to be uncaring and lazy in order to sneakily make his way up the military chain. There were some more ridiculous ones, of course. He and Fullmetal reacted just as violently to the rumor that Edward was his illegitimate son. As if he was old enough for that!

But Roy wasn't alone in having rumors follow him. His entire unit had them as well. People whispered about Falman's encyclopedic memory or that he had a family that no one knew about. He once heard a rumor that Breda was in an underground, illegal wrestling league. A few people had insinuated that Fuery had lied about his age in order to get into the military. Although Roy's favorite rumor to this day was that Havoc was secretly gay and hid it under the guise of always trying and failing to find a girlfriend.

Not surprisingly (though disappointingly), he didn't hear a lot of rumors about Riza, though he knew they were there. People were usually too scared to speak of them aloud, especially when anyone from Roy's unit was around. After all, everyone knew that Riza was always carrying a weapon on her person. However, the one he did hear was that Riza was in unrequited love with him and worked under him in an attempt to be close to him. He, of course, being the professional that he was, teased her about it.

(Only once and never again though. Her calculated retribution had left him squirming and unable to look her in the face for days.)

So when it came to the stories he heard about the man that would be his commanding officer, Roy took them all in and sorted through them during the move. He needed to know what kind of man that he would be working under, after all, if he was going to use it to his advantage to further his goals. Eastern Headquarters wasn't known for its flashiness – he'd nearly thought he was being pushed to the side when he'd been told of his transfer – but that didn't mean that the man running it was someone to discount.

It only took him a few months, but Roy came to the firm conclusion that most likely all of the rumors about General Grumman were absolutely true.

Grumman might have been off-hinged. Roy couldn't tell at times. The older man was insanely smart – that much he could ascertain – but he hid behind a mask of eccentricities that wasn't always a mask. There were moments when Roy couldn't figure out where the façade ended and the commanding officer began, though he figured that was the point of the whole game. Grumman wasn't just good at his job, however far off from Central he'd been placed; he was damn good at it. He could see how the higher ups had thought they could just shuffle the old man off to East City before he retired, but they were all sorely mistaken to underestimate him.

Plus, he was killer at chess. Roy had thought himself pretty good at it. The only one he really struggled against was Breda, who was an excellent strategist. Falman was decent, but he got wrapped up in all the possible outcomes and strategy plays. Havoc didn't have the patience for it and usually ended up threatening to flip the board. Fuery panicked and struggled in his earnest attempts to learn. Riza's skill seemed to vary. She'd never been great at the game, just good, when they were kids; as young adults, she'd go from terrible one day to surprisingly good the next. Now in Eastern, she was all of a sudden consistently better. But still, Roy topped them all at the game.

Until Grumman. The man played chess like he was set to trample everyone in his way, and he did it all with a light smile and cheeky laughs. Roy could honestly say that he enjoyed his time with his superior officer, something he had never felt before or thought he would, but he could also tell that the man was a snake in the grass. Those glasses hid the eyes of a very sly man that had perfected the art of manipulating the people around him. Roy was almost positive that Grumman manipulated him in some ways, though he couldn't figure out how, but it had never hurt him, so he never questioned it.

The man had his oddities, flirting with the female officers, dressing questionably at times, and not seeming to care about regulations – but then he'd pull some of the most dangerous and information sensitive missions for his subordinates that proved useful and interesting. It was a strange tactic. He seemed to fuel the rumors about him himself, laughing about them whenever they came up, but never denying them either. An interesting man to watch and learn from indeed. But even then, there were some things that he fought to keep under light.

It was a sunny day during the spring when Roy was on his way to turn in paperwork on the upcoming training events with the Northern Command. Grumman had delegated most of the work to him, insisting that it was easy work, but what it really did was give Roy access to a lot of information on other military personnel. It had been a very interesting read, so he'd wanted to hand the General his reports and suggestions in person. As he neared the door, it suddenly opened and Riza stepped out of it.

Both Lieutenant and Colonel came to a standstill and stared at each other. As far as he'd known, Riza had never spoken to General Grumman except when she was with Roy or when he sent her to take paperwork to the man. So why had she been in his office when she didn't have any official business being there? Suddenly, all those rumors about Grumman and how penchant with female officers started blaring in his mind like a siren. But no, Riza wasn't like that. She was professional. Both of them were acutely aware of the anti-fraternization laws in the military. She was…

"Sir," Riza managed before sliding past him and walking back towards the office. He noted upon looking back that she was staring straight ahead and walking very stiffly – and very swiftly too.

Feeling rather dazed, Roy reached up to scratch his head, blinked, and then stepped into the General's office. Grumman was putting his chessboard back up, as if he'd just been playing a game with his Lieutenant. But why would he do that? It wasn't like they were on personable terms with each other. Were they?

Roy saluted the older man with his free hand even though Grumman hadn't looked up at him yet. "Sir."

When Grumman finally turned his attention to him, he looked rather…amused, a tiny smirk on his face and the sunlight reflecting off of his sunglasses in a way that reminded Roy of Hughes. "Oh, Colonel Mustang. What a pleasant surprise. Do you have the paperwork for the combined training sessions?" As if nothing had happened. As if Riza hadn't been in here just moments ago.

Roy knew that he should just leave it be. It wasn't his business. Maybe he'd ask Riza later, but he had a feeling that she would be tight-lipped about it. And when she didn't want to talk about something, there was literally no way of getting her to even admit that there was something she didn't want to talk about. But he kept thinking about the look on her face when they'd bumped into each other: surprised, indignant, and yet embarrassed. What in the hell was his personal adjutant up to with their commanding officer?

"I noticed Lieutenant Hawkeye leaving your office," Roy said instead of answering his superior. If he seemed insubordinate, the General didn't comment on it and instead fixed him with a considering gaze. He didn't know what else to say. He sure as hell wasn't about to suggest that any inappropriate conduct. Why did Riza have to be so damn guarded? "I normally wouldn't say anything, but I'm rather…partial to her as my adjutant, and I've had more than a few officers try to sway her to work for them."

There, that was a good explanation. It may have not been what he thought the General was doing – whatever the hell he was doing – but it had happened a few times before. Generals trying to convince her to abandon the fledgling Colonel, other State Alchemists attempting to win her over to work with them and tarnish his reputation in the process. She never considered the offers, of course, and refused a personal audience with them unless it was possible to ignore. But then she'd been apparently spending time with General Grumman without Roy knowing, so that made him edgy.

Things felt tense in the room, Roy unsure if whether or not he'd pressed his nose where it didn't belong and he was going to get flicked for it – and then Grumman began to chuckle. It was the kind of laugh that said he was very entertained by a new bit of knowledge, which made Roy feel confused as hell.

"Oh, no, my good boy, I would never do that. Besides, I don't think there's anything in the world that could convince the Lieutenant to leave you. She's very _partial_ to you as well." There was teasing in his superior officer's voice, honest to god teasing. Roy stood there in confusion, trying very hard not to openly gape. Was there something he had missed? "You just stumbled on an old man enjoying some unexpected and perhaps not well-deserved time with his only granddaughter."

His…granddaughter? This time, Roy could not stop his mouth from opening partially as he stared. Riza was General Grumman's granddaughter? His mind raced at the implications. From what he knew of her childhood, the only family member that she'd had left had been her father. She'd told him herself that she didn't have anyone else and no one had showed up at Berthold Hawkeye's funeral. But then… She'd also told him that her mother had severed ties with her family when she'd married.

"I'm not surprised that she didn't tell you," Grumman continued, leaning back in his seat. "Truth be told, she didn't know herself until a few weeks after you and your team were settled here. I knew of her, but didn't know how to approach her, or if I should. I confess to being worried that she might hold a grudge against me, the same as her mother and father did, but she seemed…unperturbed by the revelation, though unsure." He looked at a picture on his desk, one that Roy hadn't seen before. It was of a grinning blonde-haired woman, one that looked remarkably like Riza. "I kept up with her throughout the years as best as I could. She's…not what I expected, but she is more of her mother's child than she knows."

"How so?" Roy found himself asking. Riza hadn't been able to share a lot of knowledge on her late mother, who passed away when she was younger than he'd been when he had lost his parents. He could only imagine how excited and scared she was to learn more of her mother now. It was probably why she'd kept this to herself. She couldn't afford to look vulnerable. She was a silly person, sometimes. If anything, he wanted her to be open with him when she felt like that.

Grumman smiled, this time more fond than sneaky. "Riza is a deceptively clever woman, just like her mother, and she's quick, but she's also very guarded. Her mother was keen on secrets, something she unfortunately inherited from me. I cannot say that our estrangement was not mostly my fault. Maybe it's my age, but I found myself prone to nostalgia when I saw her again and hoped that we could reconnect." Roy almost smiled. Riza had a special talent in that without realizing it. "Both of us recognized that our being related could be held against us in some way. She asked me not to say anything, lest people believe that you were getting special treatment because of our relation."

"Me?" Roy sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Riza could put a whole new spin on selflessness, but sometimes it grated him to no end. She needed to focus on herself, too. There was no way that he was going to the top without her.

"Again, she's sneaky. I have a feeling that she keeps a lot of things close to the vest, some that I will never know about and maybe you as well." Grumman picked up the queen piece, examined it for a moment, and then set it back in the chess box. "You did very well in picking the person to watch your back. And somehow, by doing so, you indirectly helped an old man come to terms with his past."

Roy still didn't really know what to say. The only thing he got out was a confused, "Thank you?" before blinking out of the stupor and moving to set the paperwork on the General's desk. This was all a very strange and unexpected turn of events. And not a single rumor had come of this. He'd had no idea that his commanding officer and his adjutant could be related. Perhaps it was one of those extreme coincidences that would far out to have even been conceived.

One thing was for sure though: Roy would help make sure that this knowledge never left this room. It was how Riza wanted things, at least for now, and he was better at keeping her secrets than he was at chess.


	40. Halves

**Author's Notes:** So, uh, fair warning - I wrote this while extremely wine drunk. This is another soulmate AU - where you glow upon meeting your soulmate. When I started writing this, it wasn't supposed to be literal at all, but then my mind ran wild and this was the result. When I woke up and found this on my laptop, I was pretty confused. I'm an idiot sometimes. Thanks for reading!

* * *

 _40\. Halves_

* * *

Two halves equal a whole. Everyone knew that. It was why some people stumble around their lives never knowing what it felt like to be a whole person. It was why others glowed whenever they look upon someone else. It was why widows and widowers faded into darkness until there was nothing left of their person.

Riza watched as the glow around her father slowly faded. She couldn't remember a time when her father shined brightly as a whole person. As her mother had grown sicker and weaker from her illness, the light around them had both began to shimmer and blink. She remembered asking her father why the light around him was so muted; he had slammed the door on her and refused to talk to her for days, like she was an adult and not four years-old.

How could she have known then? She hadn't understood anything.

No one in her class shined. They were young though and it took years. She'd heard stories about kids suddenly shining, having met their soulmate during something simple as recess, but nothing in her small town. She took comfort it that. She never wanted to shine. If she came home shining, she knew just how angry her father would be. Not at her, not exactly, but at the whole system. The whole soulmate thing shoved in his face when the love of his life was gone forever and dead. It was why he barely paid attention to her as it was, and she was desperate to hold onto whatever love he had left for her.

And then he took an apprentice on, and it ruined everything.

For the first month, Riza avoided this new apprentice with a strict regime. She made him food; she cleaned up after him; she did his laundry – but she never interacted with him, didn't so much as glance at him for longer than a second. She wanted nothing to do with the boy that stole whatever last vestiges of her father's attention and concern from her. She was infuriated with him, especially because of all the orders that she was given upon his arrival. It wasn't like she enjoyed doing all these things for a boy she didn't know, but her father told her to do them, and she wasn't about to disobey her father.

So she cooked, cleaned, went to school, did her homework, cooked some more, and studied. It left her very little free time. She was tired. She didn't know how much longer she could put up with this before she exploded. After all, she was just a kid, straggling onto twelve years of age like it was adulthood. She wasn't meant for this.

Then, after sleeping in later than planned, during her rush to cook breakfast, she bumped into her father's apprentice, and he changed her entire world.

She stumbled back against the wall, almost falling over, when a hand latched onto her wrist and held her up. The grip on her was tight, but not painful, as a voice rang out, "Oh, god, I'm sorry! I was in a rush and I–" The boy's voice tore off in a mangle and a choke.

Riza growled angrily as she straightened herself up. She didn't like getting caught off guard in such a way, and she did not want to talk to her father's apprentice. Jerking herself out of his grip and still not looking at him, she smoothed down her school uniform and huffed. "Yes, yes, you're hungry, I know. My apologies for being late."

"I'm not…" He sounded so meek, so…scared actually. "I'm not mad about breakfast."

It sounded like it had taken every bit of effort for him to speak. That was strange. Her father wouldn't have taken on someone that was weak in the slightest. He was able to sense that out. So why was this boy acting like a panicky child when he was older than her?

"Mister Mustang," she began, raising her eyes to his for the first time– and then she froze.

There was Roy Mustang, gaping and wide eyed and trembling, and he was positively glowing. But it was too bright in the kitchen for one person alone. Her eyes trailed down and she saw – she saw how much she was glowing. She had been dim for all her life, as all people were before they met her soulmate, but now she was shining brighter than anyone she had ever seen in her life. The glow looked violent surrounding them.

She wanted to scream, but instead, all she could muster was, "No."

"I…" Roy blinked quickly. "I didn't expect…"

When he took one step towards her, she took a few steps back. "I can't go to school like this."

"You could stay here–"

"With you?" Riza nearly screeched.

Roy flinched. She could tell on the spot that he wasn't the cruel-natured, selfish boy that she'd pictured these past months. Instinctively, she knew that this was her fault. She'd gone out of her way to avoid him. Every time she saw him try to make contact with her, she'd run away from him, never looking at him properly. She'd held off on meeting him and introducing herself. And now... Now they knew. Now they couldn't avoid one another. She was his and he was hers. It could be years or it could be never or it could be tomorrow, but somehow or another, the silly boy that her father had taken on as an apprentice was her soulmate.

"What are we going to do?" Riza asked, dropping her eyes to her shoes. She gasped when Roy took his hands in hers. He was older than her by two years. This was too much. She would get questioned for years when she showed up to school full aglow with the sign that she'd met her soulmate. Shining this young was incredibly rare.

When she forced herself to look up, Roy was smiling nervously. He was already handsome for his age. Damn him. "We get to know each other. That's all I want right now."

Riza smiled back at him gratefully. To know her other half at such a young age, why, she had to either be lucky or unlucky. She supposed that she'd find out in the years to come.


	41. Coat

**Author's Notes:** This one really didn't go where I wanted it to, but I took it as an excuse to write our dear Ice Queen and Roy being an asshat. Thanks for reading!

* * *

 _41\. Coat_

* * *

Briggs was the definition of when hell froze over, but Riza wasn't about to let it get the best of her. It was going to take more than snow and below freezing temperatures to bring her down.

She had dealt with cold temperatures before, having grown up in an old house that had little to no insulation. The winters had been painfully cold, but she'd suffered through them with as much dignity as one could always wearing sweaters and huddling under a blanket by the fireplace to study. That first winter when Roy had come to study had been dreadful since her father had ordered her not to bother his apprentice whatsoever, and Roy had unwittingly taken shop in the library. Oh, how he'd flushed with guilt when she'd stepped inside, teeth chattering, and asked if he minded her studying in the room with him.

As if his entire being had been meant for flame alchemy from the moment he was born, Roy had always been warm bodied by nature. He was practically a heater, making things slightly uncomfortable whenever they were forced next to each other, but she enjoyed the warmth that seemed to radiate from him. She took it as a comfort, even now that they were adults. Still, it also meant that he absolutely despised the cold. Though she'd never tell him, she still had a picture of him when they were teenagers and he'd put on four sweaters to keep warm. He'd barely been able to move, eyes glowering above the one sweater he'd pulled up to his nose.

In a way, Roy reacted to the snow about the same way that Edward reacted to milk. It was his natural enemy, one that he cursed and then proclaimed it meant nothing to him. Upon stepping out of the car that had brought them as far as it could to Briggs, he'd stomped resolutely through the snow about ten feet, like he was attacking it, before she'd informed him that he was walking in the opposite direction. One would've thought that his mistake was the snow's fault.

It certainly didn't help that General Olivier Armstrong ran Briggs like a tight ship. Riza rather liked it herself. All of the officers were in line and none of them slacked on their work, least of all the General. It was a healthy mixture of respect and fear, a different approach than Roy's method with his subordinates, though all of them were deeply loyal to their commanding officers. But Armstrong's way of working clashed directly with Roy's personality, and even if he was wearing normal gloves in place of his ignition gloves, there were violent sparks whenever the two of them were in the same vicinity as each other.

On one such occasion, they stood outside on top of the wall. It was an impressive structure, but it was bitingly cold out today, the wind swirling at them, managing to pull half of her hair out of its clip. Still, she stood behind the Colonel resolutely, refusing to budge an inch, even as he fidgeted in front of her. It wasn't all due to the cold; half of his agitation came from the General. She acted as if the cold didn't bother her in the slightest, her bright blonde hair whipping around her, but maybe it was because she was so infuriated. Armstrong could be a cold officer with her efficiency and demanding nature, but she had a hot glare, one that she seemed to permanently wear whenever Roy was around.

"If you think your men are capable of handling the training session, then you are more of a fool than my brother," Armstrong snapped viciously, reminding Riza of a snarling cat. "They are weak and softhearted – with the exception of First Lieutenant Hawkeye – and would undoubtedly get themselves lost or killed. You know nothing about this territory. We are in Briggs and I am higher ranked; therefore my men and I will have control over this while you and your men can learn to follow orders and do something for once."

"I've had it with you insulting my men," Roy damn near growled. In truth, she had to wonder if he sounded like that because he had to keep his jaw tight so that his teeth wouldn't chatter. "They are just as competent as yours – and you don't see me hurling abuses at them. Take pot shots at my character all you want – I honestly don't give a damn – but the next time you insult my subordinates, higher rank or not, I'll blow you off this bloody wall."

At this, Riza raised her eyebrows slightly. For the past week during this joint training session, Roy had reacted to all of Armstrong's verbal abuse with either casual flippancy or a maddening smirk. A few times, he'd even flirted with the woman, which had caused Armstrong to nearly stab him. Nothing she said seemed to get at him. But apparently enough was enough. She hadn't heard him threaten someone in such a way for a long time, especially not a superior officer.

Armstrong's glare took on a sharp, piercing effect, perhaps to restrain herself from pulling out her sword and literally stabbing him. "I've dealt with bigger and stronger men than you, Mustang, and none of them came out the better for it. I won't tolerate idle threats. It's a sign of weakness and Briggs has no room for that." She stepped closer to Roy, who was vibrating from either rage or being cold. "Tomorrow will be a daylong training session and there is supposed to be a blizzard. Perhaps your men are capable, but they are not experienced in this terrain and they will die, so I will lead the session and you will learn. No weakness or inefficiency tolerated. If you feel that I wasn't sufficient in leading, I will be more than happy to accommodate a duel right here."

Roy was seething when Armstrong left them on the roof. His hands balled into fists at his side, he hunkered inside his heavy coat, his face the perfect picture of a just barely contained snarl. Riza didn't enjoy the way that the General viewed her fellow officers, especially when she did know that they were efficient, even if they did work differently than the men at Briggs, but it was always a surprise when the woman would go on a tirade and then compliment her.

According to General Armstrong, she wasn't sure how Roy had managed to convince someone as excellently proficient as Riza to follow him unquestionably. She'd more than once insinuated that Riza would be better placed at Briggs with a higher chance of being promoted. Roy knew better than to jump at that bait, but he still acted somewhat wounded once Armstrong was gone.

Just as she was about to suggest that they head inside as well, Riza sneezed. The action was so sudden that Riza blinked in surprise. Sure, she'd felt the effects that the cold weather was starting to have on her, but she had assumed it was the cold wind that was agitating her close to runny nose.

Before she could do anything else though, Roy draped his thick coat over her shoulders. "You should have said something. I only had the meeting out here because I know that Armstrong thinks she's got the upper hand on top of the wall." While Roy was naturally warm bodied, Riza was not. As teenagers, he'd teased her about being cold-blooded a few times. It helped her cope with the biting cold, but it didn't make things any more pleasant.

Riza sighed and went to take the coat off. "Sir, you're going to need this even inside."

But Roy put his hand on her shoulder and stopped her, a grin on his face. "I can't afford for my seemingly one competent subordinate to get sick right before our glorified camping trip in a snowstorm." At that, he pulled on her gently and they walked back inside. "Besides, I was getting hot. You were right in suggesting the Northern uniform, although I'm not sure if even I can pull off furry hoods."

"Thank you, sir." There was a slight smile on Riza's face and she guilty hugged the large coat around her body. Sure, she could handle the cold weather better than Roy, but that didn't mean she couldn't indulge in a little warmth every now and then.

"God, I'm glad she was so insistent on leading this training session. This was the one I wasn't looking forward to at all, and I thought for sure that she was going to stick me with it and let me suffer." Roy shot her a smirk, to which Riza rolled her eyes. "The best way to get that woman to do anything is try to demand to do it yourself."

"If she finds out that you manipulated her so that you could do less work, she'll probably insist on that duel herself," Riza pointed out.

Roy merely laughed in response, but there was a hint of uneasiness in it. She was confident in his abilities to defend himself and fight – had seen his skill firsthand – but no one could deny the tenacity and fierceness of the Ice Queen. Riza soaked in the warmth of the Roy's coat, a hint of a smile on her face as she watched him walk ahead of her. She wouldn't have wanted to be stationed in Briggs, at least not without him.


	42. Day Off

**Author's Notes:** In my defense, **Lin** , I did say that I had been drinking when I wrote that weird glowing soulmate fic, ha! Thank you for the reviews. It was fun writing Grumman. What a ridiculous, clever, old coot. Now, have some accidental lemon-scented fluff as a show of my gratitude for everyone reading.

* * *

 _42\. Day Off_

* * *

"So what do you want to do on our first day off together in months?"

Riza looked out of the bathroom door and into the bedroom where Roy was sprawled on the upside down on the bed, playing a tug of war with Black Hayate. The dog was ever unwavering in jerking on the rope, growling playfully and wagging his tail, but he was no match for Roy's weight. Without warning, Roy let go of the rope and Black Hayate went tumbling backwards. He yipped happily around the rope in his mouth and jumped onto the bed as Roy rolled onto his stomach and gazed up at her.

"You know, I'm not sure," Riza replied as she stepped into the bedroom and closer to the bed she'd made. "I can barely remember what it feels like."

A sneaky glint shined in Roy's eyes as he pushed himself into a sitting position. "Oh, I could think of a few things," he said, as he reached out and pulled her down onto the bed with him. She rolled her eyes at him, but there was still a smile on her face and she didn't push him away when he kissed her neck. "It's been a while since I've studied you properly."

"Surely that won't take you all day."

Roy pulled back to smirk at her. "Depends on what I find out."

Shaking her head at him, Riza kissed him and then moved so that she was straddling him. He jumped a little, not expecting the action from her. She almost smirked back at him. She rather liked having casual conversation in between these intimate and playful moments. It was like a game to her, one that she usually won. She kept a tally on all the ways she could pull him in and then push him away again. It was entertaining.

"We should do something outside," she told him, leaning in to kiss him again. "It's nice out."

"Mmhm." While Roy was listening to her, his mind wasn't exactly focused on her words. He brought his hands up to cup her face and deepened the kiss. Already she could feel something stirring in her. How he managed to do that with such ease never ceased to amaze her. Of course he would use that gift for evil. The moment he had realized what exactly he was capable of doing, before they'd even toed the line between them, he'd taken advantage of it, doing whatever he could to make her squirm or blush while at work.

"There's a new ice cream shop down the street by the park. I know how much you like your sweets."

Nudging the collar of her shirt to the side, Roy kissed the skin above her collarbone. "It's a terrible addiction." He kissed back up her neck, along her jaw, and then her lips again. Without thinking, she rolled her hips against him, and he gripped her arms tightly. "Who should you be this time?"

It should have stung – the fact that she couldn't be herself whenever she was out in public with Roy like this – but he'd helped spin it into a game of sorts. It made things less painful or awkward. And it helped keep up his image as a ladies' man when he was, in fact, only interested in the one woman he couldn't have in public. They turned it into a role play where she would be another woman and make a story out of it. At least this way they didn't have to completely shut themselves away.

"Hm, I was thinking, perhaps, a foreign delegate being given a tour of the quaint side of Central by General Mustang," Riza supplied thoughtfully. "Only to be wooed by his charming good looks, quick intelligence, and alluring roguish behavior."

She gently pushed him back so that he was lying down and she was atop of him and experimentally rolled her hips again. At that, he practically growled. The dark look in his eyes was dangerous and demanding, shooting sparks of excitement up her spine. Only he had ever been able to do that with a simple look of want.

"Why, I would never do anything inappropriate during something as official as that," Roy said, although the look in his eyes said something very different, combined with the way his snuck under her shirt. His touch was always so hot that it nearly made her shiver.

Riza leaned down so that her face was barely an inch above his, their heavy breathing mixing with each other as she moved against him. His right hand slid over the small of her back, pushing her chest against his. "But I can't help myself," she breathed against his lips, "and our customs are different. They're not so restrained or prude. When I want something, I take it. I want the Flame Alchemist – and I always get what I want."

Moving suddenly, Roy flipped them over so that she was the pinning her on the bed. Her heart hammered wildly in her chest as she coolly gazed up at him, but there was all heat in his dark eyes. Pressing his left hand against her neck, his thumb resting on her cheek, Roy leaned down to kiss her deeply. "I'm not one to deny a beautiful lady of what she wants."

Riza gasped when she felt where his other hand went and Roy smirked in response. Perhaps he'd won this game, but she certainly didn't mind. Their day off was definitely going to start off interestingly.


	43. Wind

**Author's Notes:** This one got a little rambly and did not want to cooperate with me, but I was going to write that Havolina scene in my head if it was the last thing I did. Thanks for reading!

* * *

 _43\. Wind_

* * *

"I cannot believe that we're stuck out here," Rebecca groaned as she threw herself onto the couch. The furniture squeaked in protest at the action, causing her to look at it sharply, but nothing happened, so she sighed and sunk further into the uncomfortable cushions. "This is worse than ridiculous."

"I've never seen it snow so bad this far south," Riza said as she gazed out the window. There was almost nothing for her to see except snow blaring down on them. The blizzard had come suddenly, a lot faster than anticipated. This was supposed to be just a rendezvous point for them to get picked up after the mission was completed, but once the blizzard hit, the roads were closed off and they were stuck for the night. Staying any longer wouldn't really be an option, as the cabin hadn't come equipped with food.

Rebecca threw an arm over her eyes and let the other hang over side of the couch, her knuckles grazing the wooden floor. "Tonight is going to suck. It's already cold as hell."

Upon spotting two dark shapes in the white blur, Riza smiled faintly. "At least we'll have a fire."

"I suppose I should thank a higher power for Colonel Smug Face."

Refraining from laughing, Riza straightened when the door opened and the man in question stepped inside. Roy shook the snow from his body as much as he could, slapping at his coat with all the anger of a man that despised winter. Havoc followed quickly after, bumping into the Colonel with his enthusiasm to get out of the snow.

"Are you going to leave that door open?" Rebecca demanded shrilly, curling into a ball like it would somehow protect her from the cold air and snow that was blowing inside. Giving them an apologetic look, Havoc shut the door. Rebecca huffed from the couch, but she slowly uncurled herself.

"There wasn't a lot that we could find," Roy sighed, as he gestured to the bundle of wood under each of his and Havoc's arms. Upon coming to the conclusion that they would be stuck here for the night, Riza had suggested that they collect wood to use for a fire. Roy had insisted that he and Havoc go out. Riza would've argued, especially since she knew just how much Roy hated snow, but Rebecca jumped on the opportunity to stay out of the blizzard.

Riza took the bundle out of Roy's arms. "We'll make do."

The cold would be annoying, especially since the cabin wasn't insulated, but it would be the lack of food that would cause issues with them later. None of them had eaten well today as it stood. She would never complain about hunger, but it would crop up later for one of them. They got to work getting the fire started. Mostly they had problems from the wood being damp, so that took some time, patience, and a bit of swearing on Roy's part. Luckily though, she'd managed to keep his spare ignition gloves dry. Once a fire was finally going in the fireplace, all of them were able to let out a sigh.

"I'm never going to complain about my gas bill again," Rebecca said as she sat in front of the fire, holding her hands out to get warm. The rest muttered their agreements. They'd all dressed for winter weather, but it was one thing walking around in the cold and quite another being hunkered down in a snowstorm.

Havoc stood and straightened his back. "Well, seeing as how we're not completely in the clear yet, I suppose we need to keep watch, just in case." No one looked surprised at the thought. Riza herself had been about to make the call, but Havoc had beat her to the punch. However absurd the man was about finding a girlfriend, he was a damn good soldier. "I'll take first go."

"Are you sure?" Rebecca asked, again before Riza could open her mouth. "You went out to get the wood."

"Nah, I don't mind," Havoc replied. "Too wired from walking around in that blizzard."

Roy nodded his head, eyes focused on the fire of his creation. It was such a small thing, but one that could keep them alive. "We should try to get some rest and conserve energy. It's going to be a long day tomorrow."

With that done, Havoc walked into the kitchen. There were a few more windows to look out of in there. That left the rest of them to figure out what to do. The three of them stood up and examined the room. There was only one bedroom in the cabin with a small bed that was probably as sketchy as the couch, although at least the couch was in the same room as the fire. They could drag the mattress into the living room area, but it would still only be good for one person.

"I'll take the couch, if you don't mind," Rebecca piped up. "Then I'll take second watch."

"Agreed." Roy eyed the couch with suspicion anyways, despite its proximity to the fireplace.

As Rebecca settled onto the couch, using a rug as a blanket, Riza wandered over to the other side of the room and opened the door to the dark bedroom. The bed did indeed look just as old and decrepit as the couch, made even worse by the frilly and lacy blanket and pillows. Why had they chosen this place as their rendezvous point? Sure, it was inconspicuous and out of the way, but it was like some abandoned vacation home, not some kind of military outpost.

Roy nudged her with his arm. When she looked over at him, he smirked and waggled his eyebrows at her. "You know, the best way to keep warm is the cuddle naked with someone."

"It's a shame Havoc is on watch duty then."

Letting out a mock gasp of shock, Roy placed a hand over his heart. "My dear Lieutenant, you wouldn't upstage your best friend like that, would you?"

Without even missing a beat or blinking, Riza coolly responded, "Who says I'd leave Rebecca out of it? Only one person has to be on watch."

The amount of surprise that dashed across Roy's face was enough to let her know that he hadn't been anywhere near expecting her to come back with something so dirty. That was normally his route with humor. His hand dropped to his side and he stared at her hard. She had a feeling that it was a good thing the light of the fire didn't reach all the way over here, or she'd see exactly what was swirling in Roy's eyes.

"That is a very cruel thing to suggest, Lieutenant," he told him in a low voice.

Riza smiled very sweetly at him. "You can take the bed. Just hand me pillow and I'll sleep on the floor."

Despite the fact that he didn't seem to be quite over what she had said moments ago, Roy shook his head. "Do you think I'm not a gentleman at all? You take the bed."

"For the love of every attractive, single man on this planet, just share the damn bed! It's cold and I'm tired and you all will argue until sunset at this rate!" Rebecca snapped from underneath the rug on the couch. "I can assure you that no one will know that you two even slept in the same room together."

Both Roy and Riza were looking at Rebecca in surprise when Havoc called out from the kitchen, "She's got a point, sir!"

Riza glanced back at her superior officer, who merely shrugged his shoulders, but she saw the ghost of a grin on his face and glowered at his back as he stepped into the small bedroom. He pulled the blanket back and sat down on the bed, bouncing on it a little to test it, and then stretched himself out on it. With one hand behind his head, he pat the space on the bed next to him, giving her the cheekiest grin that she had ever seen.

Taking a deep breath and straightening herself, Riza walked over to the other side of the bed. She looked down at his hand and then the space where she was supposed to get some shut eye. There wasn't a lot of room on the bed. She shot him a quick glower, which he decidedly ignored, and then lowered herself onto the mattress like it was a tub of steaming hot water. With as much dignity as she could muster, she lay back on the bed and then promptly turned so that her back was to him and wrapped her arms around herself. She refused to look over her shoulder at him as he chuckled and pulled the blanket over them both.

Still, she couldn't help but feel a lot warmer than before. The blanket didn't really offer much warmth and she hadn't taken any of her clothes off, but the relief came from being next to Roy, no matter how tensed up she was. What with him being the human equivalent of a heater, even without his alchemy, she couldn't help but relax as the air under the blanket grew warmer. It didn't make her any more comfortable lying down so close to him though, even though she'd tried to keep as much room from them as possible.

Keeping her eyes closed, Riza went through a routine of singing a song in her head mentally. It was always the same song, one from her childhood. She'd taught herself to go through the verses whenever she was trying to sleep, conditioning herself to become drowsy whenever she did so. When fellow soldiers in Ishval asked her how she fell asleep so quickly upon laying down, she told them about the mental trick. They'd thought her clever, but she'd been doing it since she was a child. By now, it was habit for her to do whenever she was stuck in uncomfortable sleeping positions.

This definitely qualified as uncomfortable.

Nonetheless, due to her excellently practiced self-conditioning, Riza eventually fell asleep, however restless it was. Her dreams were a hazy blur, nothing that she could latch onto it particularly, which suited her just fine. As a rule, she didn't care to dream or at least remember them. She'd had nightmares in Ishval, but she'd mostly had distantly pleasant dreams after having her tattooed burned off, strange as it had been. Nowadays, she spent most of her sleep in a fog, faces and words coming to every now and then but little else.

When she woke, the room came to her slowly, but when wind blew through small cracks in the wood, she could not stop from shivering under the blanket. That was when she realized that she was alone, the consistent warmth of Roy's body not next to her. She sat up quickly, but there were no other sounds but the wind howling outside and snores from the living room area.

Rubbing at her eyes, Riza stood up and gathered the blanket around herself like a cloak. No sense in leaving it behind if no one else was going to use it, and she was cold. As she traipsed out of the room, she spotted a lump under the rug on the couch and then Roy standing to the side of the door, peering outside the curtain. When the floorboard creaked under her foot, he turned to look at her, but not in surprise.

He tilted his head slightly, the glow of the fire casting just enough light for her to see his face. Despite the fact that he couldn't have slept for longer than a few hours, he didn't seem tired. _Did I wake you?_ his eyes asked.

She shook her head silently and he nodded his, turning his eyes back to the window. The wind had most likely woke her up or maybe the cold, but part of her couldn't help but think that her body had naturally woken the moment that Roy had left the bed, like it was warning her that her charge was leaving her. Even asleep, Riza could not stop her promise to watch his back. For all the jokes about her having him wrapped around her finger, he had her trained just as well.

Just as she started to head back to the bedroom, wondering where Havoc had sequestered himself to rest, the front door burst open from a powerful gust of wind and snow blew inside the cabin.

Everyone reacted immediately. Riza dropped the blanket from her shoulders and pulled out her weapon to point at the open door. Roy jerked his right hand up, covered with an ignition glove, fingers pressed together ready to snap. Havoc and Rebecca popped their heads up from underneath the rug-turned-blanket on the couch, guns in each of their hands.

However, it quickly became apparent that the only threatening thing outside was the cold wind and snow, so Roy dropped his hand and pushed the door closed again, fiddling with the lock once more. Only once that was done did the other three lower their guns and visibly relax.

Roy turned around to face the two officers lying on the couch together. Despite the fact that it was obvious that the two adults had kept all of their clothes on, that still didn't stop Havoc from turning a rather delightful shade of red as his superior officer cocked a decidedly inquisitive eyebrow. Rebecca, for her part, did not look ashamed one bit, but that was only because Riza knew damn well that her friend would rather jump into a fire than admit any sort of defeat to Roy.

"I, ah, it was cold and we were trying to keep warm?" Havoc offered.

"We took a page out of your book, sir, just a smaller space," Rebecca added, a hint of defiance in her voice. At this, Riza blushed slightly and shot the other woman a quick glare, but Rebecca didn't have the grace to look even a bit guilty. "Nothing terrible going on unless you count the Second Lieutenant's abominable snoring."

"Hey!"

Roy snorted as the two on the couch bickered with each other but did not make a move to get off the couch either. He walked over towards Riza and picked up the blanket from the floor at her feet so that he could hold it out to her.

However, Riza shook her head. "I should take the next watch."

"I haven't been out here for more than ten minutes," Roy pointed out.

She wouldn't be due to watch for at least another hour or two, but she didn't feel like lying back down in an empty bed. It was a strange thought, one that she reasoned only came about because the bed was cold and she'd only been warm because of Roy's natural body heat. That was the only reason why the bed being empty was a problem for her, not because he himself wasn't in it with her. Without realizing it, her mental train of thought had caused her to start blushing again. "I don't think I could fall back asleep, sir," she mustered.

"Then we'll take watch together," Roy said. Then, he grinned at her. "But you better share that blanket."

Riza sighed in what felt like defeat. She was reminded of cold winter nights at the Hawkeye Estate where Roy would huddle around her with a blanket over his shoulders, casting a tent of warmth around her. The memory wasn't an unpleasant one by any means, just one that she struggled to keep under wraps. She nodded her head though and they set about getting into a comfortable position in the kitchen to look out the large window.

As they fell into a companionable silence, warmth returned to her like a dull glow, and she had to fight the desire to lean her head against him. That was a little more than she could handle. Even then, she could admit in the back of her mind that this wasn't bad. She didn't need to look over to know that there was a small smile on Roy's face; she could practically feel it in the air.


	44. Hair

**Author's Notes:** This was supposed to be cute and light, but apparently I can't talk about Roy and Riza's first trip to Resembool without getting a little angsty, so this is a weird mixture. Thanks for reading!

* * *

 _44\. Hair_

* * *

The decision to grow out her hair had been a random one at best. When they'd gone to Resembool to find the Elric alchemist, a lot of things had changed for them, some subtle and some not-so much. The fact the alchemist in question was little more than a child, not even a teenager yet, had been quite the surprise, especially when they had found him missing an arm and a leg after having performed the ultimate alchemy taboo. Strangely though, it did not change Roy's plan to convince the alchemist to join the State program, but merely evolved it into something new. After all, an alchemist capable of surviving the rebound of human transmutation and also soul bonding was incredibly gifted, no matter the age.

Riza was not an alchemist, but she was not beyond knowing what human transmutation was and how it could destroy a person from the inside out even just by thinking of it. She'd grown up surrounded by alchemy and all its dangers. She considered herself lucky that her father had been so consumed by his flame alchemy research that he hadn't lost himself to it after her mother's death, but she had never told a soul of the papers with human transmutation notes strewn around the house that she had gathered and burned once her father seemed to forget about them.

Apparently, Edward Elric had not been able to forget about it, and he and his younger brother had paid dearly. She could remember the haunted look on the young boy's face clear as day almost a year later. But she also remembered the young girl whose house the boys were staying in. Winry Rockbell had been a thin wisp of a girl, but pretty, to the point that Riza had known that she would be beautiful when she grew older. She'd had such lovely, long, bright hair that she nervously tugged on whenever her full attention turned to her shell-shocked friend.

It had struck Riza then that she couldn't remember ever having long hair. As a small child, her father had always cut it short so that he wouldn't have to deal with it. As she grew older, she kept cutting it because it was all she knew to do. Not growing up with any real female role models, she simply hadn't known what to do with it either. While in the Academy and later in Ishval, keeping it short had been practical. She was an adult now though and she had female friends. She pictured Winry's mother combing the girl's hair and singing songs to her.

On the train ride back to Central, Riza had stared into the countryside and then gently tugged on her short hair when she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the window.

Almost a year later into her decision to grow her hair out and she was starting to look disheveled. No one had warned her of the awkward stages that came with growing out hair. She had no idea what to do with it once her hair fell past her ears. Thank everything for Rebecca, who was ecstatic to be involved as Riza's hairstylist. She still hadn't cared for the bob that Rebecca had shaped, but it had been better than nothing. Riza longed for when her hair would be as long as Winry's so that she could put it up, in a mock form of her old short hairstyle.

As of now though, the most Riza could do was put some of her hair in a small ponytail with what felt like half the strands of her hair falling down around her face. It wasn't terrible-looking, but definitely gave her a certain look. Or, as Havoc called it…

"Someone looks like they had a good lay last night," the Second Lieutenant laughed. Bedroom hair, she'd come to find out, was her curse when it came to growing out her hair. She looked as if she'd partaken in some nightly exercises and then rolled out of bed to put her hair in a hasty and messy ponytail.

"Would you like to get ever laid again, Havoc?" Riza asked curiously from her desk, not even bothering to look up at the man. She heard him choke on his laughter just as Breda started up. When she finally settled a cool gaze on him, he straightened up, a little red in the face, and she smiled pleasantly at him. That seemed to unsettle him even more and he excused himself to the restroom.

With that taken care of, Riza stood up and stepped over to the Colonel's shut office door, knocking on it and briefly waiting for slipping inside. He was reading over the paperwork concerning Edward Elric's upcoming State Alchemist examination. Due to being the original alchemist who had scouted the boy for the program, Roy had more or less become his sponsor for the time being, something not usually heard of but due course because of how young Edward was. She noted as Roy fought the urge to chew on his pen, however subconsciously, that he was nervous.

"Sir, that paperwork isn't due for another few weeks," Riza pointed out, gentler than normal. "Perhaps it would be best to focus on the paperwork that is due in a few days."

She'd learned that getting him to do his paperwork now involved the same approach she'd used to get him to finish his homework whenever he was a teenager. Different ways for different types of work. Missions' reports required a delicate prodding as they were tedious but sometimes vaguely interesting. The small busy work needed strictness and a firm hand, as he'd push them off to the side until he couldn't avoid them any longer and mumbled complaints under his breath while doing them. Sometimes, however, certain things caught his attention and he found it difficult to let them go. Those required gentleness, something she was surprised that she was still capable of at times.

"Hm?" Roy dragged his eyes up to her, distant and not entirely focused on who was in front of him, like his mind wasn't even in the same room. "Right, yes, of course. I just want to make sure…"

He wanted to make sure that this was the right decision – putting a child into the hands of the military, no matter how great his alchemic gifts were. The idea of admitting that aloud though would be problematic. When he'd been charged to find more alchemists to fill the program after so many threw their licenses away, he hadn't been given any limits, just the order to do his job under any circumstances. The leash was short and it got shorter every day, it seemed – and now he'd be inadvertently placing it around a haunted boy's neck.

"Ah, here's the finished paperwork for the Riker case." Roy fumbled through the files in his desk before pulling out a manila folder and handing it to her. Of course he'd finished that report. The mission had required a lot of flashiness on his part. "Review it before giving it to the General."

"Yes, sir." Riza nodded and went to leave when Roy rose to his feet, his eyes more focused on her. She could sense him completely in the room again, his mind having returned to him after his wandering thoughts. It didn't exactly make her uncomfortable to be under such close examination, but she couldn't understand why he was looking at her so intently. "Sir?"

"You…" Roy's brow furrowed as he walked around his desk and stopped in front of her, just a mere foot of space in between them. She didn't step away from him, but she found it increasingly difficult to match his stare. When he suddenly reached a hand out towards her face, her heart leapt into her throat and her eyes widened slightly, but she still didn't move. All at once, he seemed to realize what he was doing and blinked, his hand falling down and safely into his pocket. "I've never seen you with your hair this long."

"To be honest, I'm not sure if it's ever been this long." She thought that her hair had been long when she was little, before her mother's death, but the memories were vague and malleable at best.

"It looks…" A wicked grin worked its way onto Roy's face. "Erotic."

Riza scowled at him while her cheeks burned. The man was worse than Havoc. "If you ever repeat that, I'll shave your head the next time you fall asleep at your desk." Just as Havoc had reacted, Roy faltered as well, a look of horror on his face as he touched his own hair and probably imagined what he'd look like bald. It was not a pretty mental picture. "Sir." She rounded on him before the expression faded from his face and started for the door.

"I like it though," Roy said as she grasped the handle. "Something new."

When she glanced back at him, Riza didn't know whether to smile or not. The horrified expression on his face had given leeway to a soft one, a face that he didn't allow whenever he was in public, so she did smile, however small it was. "Thank you, sir." She liked it too. Something new, something different, to signify the change that she had felt in the air the moment they'd stepped foot in Resembool and she'd met an upset yet brave young girl and two determined boys.


	45. Awakening

**Author's Notes:** Coincidentally, I wrote this while falling asleep. Also, this has been the most popular drabble on my tumblr blog so far. I honestly had no idea that would happen. I figured I alone would like this one. Thanks for reading and the follows! Bless you all!

* * *

 _45\. Awakening_

* * *

Roy isn't sure when exactly he fell in love with Riza.

Was it in their youth, when they were warmed by their idealism and hopeful nature? Before the world took them by the scruff of their neck and forced them to face reality?

He can remember her coming into existence, slowly but surely, until she formed a place in his life that was solely hers. There were midnight star gazes, childish games of tag in the woods, walks through the village near her home where their hands would brush together until somehow their fingers were entangled with one another. There were laughs as they joked and talked, blushes when they teased one another, aches and pains so deep whenever they upset the other somehow. There was a "them" and "theirs". It was more than he expected.

She wasn't the first girl that he kissed, but he remembers the way her face glowed in the dim light of the lamps on the street, eyes lit up with excitement as snow began to fall, lips parted in wonder. He remembers never feeling warmer than he did then on that winter night, not understanding how simply gazing at her could make his entire world stand still. And when she looked back at him, a smile on her face, he couldn't look away. He remembers pulling her closer to him, one hand on her cheek, and seeing emotions swirl in her eyes – confusion, flecked with fear and anticipation, yet the warmth still remained.

He never asked if he was her first kiss. It was clumsy at first, mostly because he hesitated and fumbled at the last minute, unsure if she even wanted to kiss him, but she closed the gap between them suddenly. After they finally found a good rhythm, they both laughed. He will always remember the clear sound of her laughter after they first kissed. He kissed her again and grinned against her lips. He will always remember that night.

But did he love her then or had it been something less substantial?

Was it when he returned to visit, only for her father and his teacher to die? Despite the fact that Roy betrayed her and her father by joining the military, she did not hesitate to trust him with the secret knowledge of flame alchemy. He can still feel how hot her bare skin was under his hands as he touched the beautiful and complex array on her back – how he felt like a hurricane of reverence, horror, excitement, and grief. He left her to this. She had wanted nothing to do with alchemy, and yet her she was, the tableau of his future.

He could barely speak, mouthing her name, and she smiled sadly back at him. The look in her eyes told him not to blame himself, just as she knew he would. Everything about her said that she trusted him, from the way she opened herself up to him in more ways than one.

It took him months to figure everything out. In that time, they fell into the same routine as when he'd been a student, except this time they were older and alone. He didn't take her hand when they went to the village to stock up on supplies. He didn't kiss her under streetlamps. He didn't point out the constellations to her as they lay on top of a hill. But then his hand would slide delicately down her bare back and she would shiver under his touch, and it was enough to awake that warm feeling in his chest, except this time it burned hotter.

She kissed him first this time. His hand lingered on her too long, but he couldn't help but enjoy simply touching her, and then their eyes met. She reached out to grab his collar and pulled her towards him. When their mouths met, he felt like he was on fire. They moved easily together, not so shyly anymore, and she rolled over so that she was on her back and he could lay over top her, his knees on either side of her. The blanket covering her fell to the side, and he hissed against her lips, but she merely nibbled on his bottom lip and he tightened his grip in one of her hands.

Was that when he fell in love with her? On those nights when they moved together so seamlessly until the light from the candles burned out?

Or had it been formed between them, twisted and broken, during their time serving together in Ishval? It is hard to imagine that anything good could have come out of that time in his life. He couldn't touch her then, could not bring himself to dirty her in such a way. The most he could do was put his hand on her shoulder and beg her as they locked eyes with one another. _Please, live, please, do not die._

He would have cracked if something happened to her. He knows that now – knows it in his bones that he would have shattered and crumbled to pieces if she had died in the dessert. Her father had told him to look after her, but there was no room for personal feelings in war. He had to turn his back on her and do his job, but then he would catch a glint of sun off the scope of her rifle and his heart would leap into his throat.

To this day, he will always remember the first time he caught her watching the outcome of his flame alchemy. Her eyes were wide on the flames, the fire glowing in her eyes, and when turned her shell-shocked gaze on him, he saw something awaken inside of her, something a lot like horror. _"Your flames are a terrible beauty, Major,"_ she murmured. They were his flames, but her father's designs and her choice. It wasn't just his work. She saw what her belief in him came to, and it shamed him to his core.

But he sees her slumped against a wall at night by the fire, asleep and leaning against a wrapped up rifle. She was beautiful even then, reminding him of all the times he'd found her sleeping in the library after a night of studying. He carried her to her bed back then, her nuzzling up against him and mumbling in her sleep. He couldn't do that in Ishval though, and so he lingered around until she came to and then watched as she dragged herself to her cot. That was the only thing he could think of to do to protect her, but he knew that he had to do that.

Did he know then that he loved her? Did their shared pain drag them together and tangle them up? It makes sense, in a way, that something so gentle could come out of something so awful, what with the way they have kept themselves apart now. So close, and yet not an option.

Whenever it was that he fell in love with her, Roy can look out of his office and spot her at her desk and be filled with a sweet pain that comes from loving her. He can't tell a soul when he fell in love with her. All he knows is that it awakens in him every time she looks at him, whether it be a smile, roll of the eyes, or glare. And whenever they manage to touch one another, even if it's something as simple as fingers touching when handing over paperwork, a spark flickers inside of his chest.

Knowing that he was in love with her wasn't so much as of a realization as it was an awakening.


	46. All Night Vigil - Sleepless Night

**Author's Notes:** Ha, **Enghel** , one of these days, I'll probably do a full-fledged lemon drabble. I've actually got a larger, separate one-shot that is supposed to be one nearly done, so I should get onto finishing that one. And thank you, **moonlightXninja168**! Time for a healthy dose of fluff mixed with a bit of angst.

* * *

 _46\. All Night Vigil/Sleepless Night_

* * *

From her spot in the hospital bed, Riza looked absolutely pathetic, to the point where it actually lessened the murderous heat of her glare for once. Roy did not envy the doctor, who was currently the object of her anger and was sweating and fidgeting under her gaze, having been the recipient of that direct ire before. The man was just lucky that her weapons had been taken away from her. The hospital gown, pale skin, and limp hair took her ferocity down a notch or two compared to what she looked like in her military garb.

Still, the doctor clearly had never dealt with a patient that looked close to homicidal when told that they would have to stay overnight. Just to be careful, he said, considering that the woman in question had worked herself ragged while sick. Roy would have to deal with this situation with the greatest of delicacy. He knew how much she loathed being in the hospital – had caught her trying to discharge herself after getting knocked out – so he would need to be extra careful with her.

She hated it when people treated her with kid gloves, but he had to do what he had to do. Simply ordering her would not be an option. Hospitals were the one place where insubordination reared its ugly head inside of her and stubbornly refused to yield.

Once the doctor left, Riza sank further into the bed in a sullen glower, arms folded across her chest. Despite the fact that she was fuming beyond belief and looked ready to attack any medical personnel that came in, he could see just how weak she was. Sweat from the fever dotted her forehead, something she swiped at with a shaky hand. There were dark circles under her eyes. How she'd managed to hide just how sick she was from him for this long astounded him, but apparently she'd been wearing strategically placed make up to cover up her looks and simply did more desk work.

Still, it had been quite a shock to hear a thump from outside his office and the shouts from his team. He'd ran out of his office, expecting maybe Fullmetal being an ass or something, only to find the Lieutenant unconscious on the ground and Havoc kneeling at her side. His heart had damn near leapt out of his chest as a list of horrific scenarios ran through his head.

"Sir, I cannot stay in here," Riza proclaimed, turning her attention to him. Her gaze wasn't as furious anymore, just brooding more than anything, but he could sense the flat and determined obstinacy in her voice. It was the voice she used when she didn't agree with one of his orders. "Your meeting with the visiting generals is in two days and there is still a lot to do."

"I can handle a day or two without you, Lieutenant," Roy pointed out calmly. Gentle, he had to be gentle. "The rest of the team can manage the workload while you recuperate."

Riza's nostrils flared, and he could picture smoke coming out of them. "I can't very well do my job if I'm stuck in this godforsaken place."

Roy smiled, though not unkindly. "You can't do your job either if you pass out from sickness."

At the reminder of the incident in the office, Riza's cheeks turned pink, but her glare only heated. She had been sorely embarrassed upon coming to, at first foggy and weakly clinging to the lapels of his jacket, but once she realized that she'd fainted, she'd sat up so fast that she knocked Havoc in the nose and nearly passed out again.

"Being confined in here is a waste of time and resources," Riza said.

"I don't think you getting healthy is a waste of time at all," Roy told her. "How can I expect you to watch my back if you can barely see straight? You're sick, Lieutenant, quite sick. A fever for the past three days, vomiting, light-headedness – you can't keep anything down and you couldn't even grip a pen without shaking. The quality of your work took damage, and I cannot have that."

Riza pursed her lips together and kept her eyes trained on him, but said nothing. She knew that he was right. He never once raised his voice, remaining gentle even in his chiding; anything else would've been met with even more stubborn indignation. Bringing up the point that she could do not her job properly in her current condition was the strongest point in his argument. She could not deny that. No matter how hard she pushed herself, she would only make things worse. And she couldn't stand the idea of her failing him in such a way. Still, she would be upset that she was side-lined even for two days.

Finally, she dropped her eyes and visibly deflated. It seemed as if she'd used all of her strength to muster the anger because when she caved to him, it looked as if she couldn't even sit up. She leaned back against the pillows and took a ragged breath. His eyes softened on her. He couldn't help himself though. He'd never seen her so sick before, not even when they were kids and she got the flu one winter. He supposed it was because he only ever saw her so strong and stoic these days.

Hell, he'd been so scared when he saw her unconscious on the office floor though. It had taken everything in him not to scoop her up and hold her in his arms. The last time he had seen her that weak had been after she'd come to a few hours after he'd burned the alchemy array on her back.

"Well, if it makes you feel better, I won't leave your side tonight," Roy piped up. The words spilled out of his mouth before he really thought them through. But the moment her eyes jerked up to his again, a confused surprise swimming in them, he knew that changing his mind wouldn't be an option. "That way you can keep an eye on me."

"You really don't have to do that, sir," Riza mumbled, looking away from him again. She sank further down in the bed, pulling the blanket over her chest. "You need proper rest at home."

"How will I be able to rest when I'll be wondering about you trying to escape this place?" Roy asked. She only looked a tad bit put out that he would insinuate that she would disobey orders, even though both of them knew that she'd try to wiggle her way out of this place faster than anyone thought was a good idea. "I can have Falman bring some of my paperwork and research so that I can get more work done while you recuperate – and you can keep doing your job."

Riza didn't argue with him, which was truly a testament of how sick she was. As he set about to camp out at the hospital for the night, he watched out of the corner of his eyes as she struggled to stay awake. He talked with Falman on the phone outside the room, knowing that the other man would remember anything that Roy forgot himself. It would be a long night, but one that he didn't mind.

After getting a snack, Roy stepped back into the room and found Riza asleep in her bed. She looked restless and irritated even in her sleep, something that amused Roy to no end. Nonetheless, he felt a streak of relief at the rise and fall of her chest. Truth be told, he was worried about her. Telling her that he was staying here to make her feel better about her uselessness had been a decent guise for the fact that he wanted to keep an eye on her. She would be wrought with frustration over the idea that he wanted to watch over her, but he couldn't imagine trying to sleep at home when he pictured her tossing and turning in a hospital room alone.

A few hours into his stay, actually nose deep in research and showing only a few signs of exhaustion, Riza began to mutter in her sleep. She used to talk full sentences when she was younger, a trait that had always managed to make him laugh, if only because she spoke such nonsense in her sleep. He smiled to himself and continued reading, but then perked up when he heard the words, "I'll die before you…" Only when he sat up to look at her face did he see the distress and how much she was sweating and practically panting.

Roy dropped the book and jumped to his feet, rushing to her bedside, but then hesitated. To be honest, he had no idea what the hell he could do for her. She was clearly having some sort of nightmare, probably fueled by the sickness that had inflicted her. Maybe she was breaking through her fever finally. She'd had so many fever dreams after he'd burned the tattoo on her back. He had held her then, pulled her against him as he willed for her to work through the nightmares, but he couldn't do that now, no matter how much his mind ached with pure, needy desperation.

Not knowing what else to day, he placed one hand against her forehead and the other on her arm so that he could still her as she jerked in her sleep. He didn't say a word, but she calmed under his touch. Her eyelids began to open in a muzzy daze, just as she'd done when she'd woken at headquarters. Slowly she focused on his face and he forced himself to wear a composed expression, but he didn't pull away from her just yet.

"Colonel…" Her voice was thick from sleep, the single word cracking.

A soft smile found its way on his face. "It was just a nightmare, Lieutenant."

Riza closed her eyes and turned her head slightly, leaning into hand as he slid it to her cheek. "You need to rest, sir," she mumbled, which of course she would say upon waking up from a nightmare while lying sick in bed. He had to fight the urge to roll his eyes. This woman was impossible.

"And you need to stop worrying about me so damn much," Roy replied, unable to pull his hands away from her even though he knew that he should. She didn't tell him not to though, not like she normally did whenever they got too close to crossing that invisible and shaky line.

"Hm, can't – it's my job." She stilled under him again as she drifted off back to sleep. The medicine the nurse had given her while he'd been on the phone worked wonders for helping her get some actual rest. He knew how lightly she slept. She fell limp under his hands and he sighed. It took a surprising amount of strength to pull away from her and stand up straight.

Her job, huh. Well tonight it would a role reversal. Tonight it was his job to look after and worry over her.


	47. In the Dead of Night

**Author's Notes:** Because I need more moments of Riza, Roy, and Hughes and also apparently to make myself sad. Thanks for reading!

* * *

 _47\. In the Dead of Night_

* * *

Riza was not entirely sure how she managed to find herself in a bar at nearly 3 am, but she was quite certain that it was high time this place closed for the night. How it managed to still be packed at this hour was beyond her and yet as she maneuvered her way through the writhing crowd it showed no signs of slowing down. It had taken a little convincing to be let inside, considering that she wasn't dressed for a night out, but she wasn't about to let some brute keep her out. The man was lucky that he was still conscious.

The only reason she was out was because of the call she'd received half an hour ago. She'd barely been able to understand what she was being told; once she realized what was going on, she'd pulled herself out of bed and made herself at least presentable. Truth be told, she had almost not come at all, but the idea of leaving the Colonel on his own when he was this drunk seemed like a bad idea. That didn't mean she was happy to have been woken up in order to be a designated driver.

"Lieutenant!" a voice called out over the music.

Riza swiveled around and spotted a disheveled Maes Hughes standing at the bar and waving a hand at her. He had been the one to call her, though she'd noted just how distracted his own voice had been. His glasses were askew on his face, but he grinned cheerfully as she made her way over to him and then pulled her into a sudden hug when she reached him. She was caught off guard every time the man did that.

"My darling, my darling, you are too kind," Hughes sighed as he pushed her back so that he could get a better look at her. The light of the bar reflected off his glasses. "I'm afraid we were terribly foolish tonight."

To this day, she still found it amusing how Hughes would become so flowery with his speech whenever he was drunk. It was like he attempted to be posh in order to cover up how much he'd drank, not realizing that that was one of the signs that he'd had too much. She was honestly surprised that he hadn't kissed her on both cheeks, though it was probably out of fear that she was carrying.

"Did you need a ride home as well?" Riza asked.

"Pah, no, my apartment is across the street," Hughes informed her, waving a hand in the direction that was not across the street. "That's why we came here, so I wouldn't have to bother my beloved wife."

Riza almost smirked. "Just me, hm?"

"You are, after all, the only one besides me that knows how to handle him when he's drunk," Hughes pointed out. "He's a delicate flower."

"Hm, delicate flower indeed." Her eyes scanned the area around him, noting the distinct lack of the person in question. Knowing him, he was probably in the bathroom trying to fix his hair. If Hughes had told him that she was on her way to pick him up, he would want to look as put together as possible. Sometimes, he could do a solid job at holding his liquor; other times though he would do anything that popped into his head.

Just as her thoughts ran to him, Roy appeared. His hair was slicked back in the style that he wore whenever he went out, freshly wet from running his fingers through it, and he did look nice, although she saw that his tie was off to the side, like he'd tightened it to make it look better but couldn't exactly see straight. "You didn't tell me that you called the fun police, Hughes."

That was a lie. Roy had most certainly known that Hughes had called her because she'd heard him in the background talking about how she'd supposedly tortured him with her "dangerous hip movements" the last time she'd gone out drinking with him and the team. However, he also didn't want her to know that he'd freshened up for her arrival.

"He thought you might appreciate a ride home, sir," Riza told him. "You are ready to go home, yes?"

Roy cast a gaze around the bar, as if torn between the desire to drink more and the need to leave. Then his eyes latched onto something behind her and he narrowed them into a glare before nodding his head. "Yes, we should go. There are too many…heathens in here."

As he stormed his way through the crowd to the front entrance, Riza followed behind and mouthed the word "heathens" to Hughes, who only stifled a laugh behind his hand and shook his head. Whatever Roy had seen behind her had apparently instilled in him a sudden dislike for the bar he'd been drinking in all night, but she knew better than to question him. He'd stubbornly insist that it was nothing.

"Thank you again, my darling Hawkeye," Hughes said once they stepped outside the bar. She waved his thanks away and then began to gather her things as the two men said goodbye to one another. It ended with Hughes running across the street with Roy shouting at him after the other man whipped a picture of his wife out and began to talk about how he couldn't wait to cuddle up with her in bed. Riza couldn't help but roll her eyes. What a silly, lovesick man.

"Are you ready, sir?" Riza asked after Roy stopped shouting.

Dropping his fist, Roy turned to face her and nodded his head. "After you." She only walked half a foot ahead of him so that she could keep an eye on him. Normally, their positions were switched, but since she was the one leading them to the car, she was in front. She noted how careful he was walking, eyes straight ahead, but that he still wasn't completely straight. He shoved his hands into his pockets to keep from fidgeting and occasionally his eyes would shift before snapping forward again. He was trying very, very hard to not appear drunk.

At least he wasn't sloppy. Havoc's birthday had been a wild ride from start to finish, one that she wasn't sure she could repeat again when Breda's day came around soon.

Once they reached the car, he insisted on getting in on his own, which she didn't fight, but he struggled with the door and then nearly fell into the seat as he went to crawl in. She mentioned nothing as she sat in the driver's seat and patiently waited for him to finish. He sat there for a while until she gave him a pointed look and he put on his seatbelt. Nodding her head, she turned the key in the ignition and started for his house, quiet music playing in the background.

Riza focused on the road, her mind drifting to how great it'd feel to be back in her bed, when something heavy fell on her arm. When she glanced over, she saw that, despite his best intention to look sober, Roy had fallen asleep against her. She moved, trying to gently wake him, but that seemed to do little. Instead, he snorted in his sleep and nuzzled his head into her arm, messing up his carefully done hair. She smiled down at him and then refocused on the road again.

Once she reached his house, she pulled over and parked. Turning the car off seemed to stir him somewhat, but he still didn't move to get up. Riza went to push him when his hand suddenly snatched hers, causing her to look at him in surprise. That had been rather quick coming from someone that was drunk and asleep.

"You know, sometimes, when you do this for me, I always thinking about asking you to stay," he mumbled, his eyes still closed and his head still against her arm. Her breath caught in her throat. She pictured him asking her, and she knew that he wouldn't wear a cocky smirk, but an almost wary expression, need in his eyes. He only got like this when he was drunk and all his defenses were lowered. It was dangerous, but they'd done a good job in reigning themselves in when things got too close. "Or I think about what it'd feel like to have what Hughes has, someone to come home to and share a bed with."

Riza didn't know what he wanted her to say – or if he wanted her to say anything at all. She could not deny that she had wondered those same thoughts before whenever Hughes was around. He was so desperately in love with Gracia, even after all these years, and while it annoyed many people, for some reason, Riza couldn't help but be warmed by the man's simple adoration of his wife, even if she didn't understand it. To be frank, it had been quite a while since she'd shared a bed with anyone, but she wasn't completely without desires or wants.

When she looked back down at Roy, he was looking up at her with a blank expression, but she could see the frustration in his eyes. Both of them knew what he was saying and they also both knew that she couldn't answer the way he hinted at. He would never blame her for that – he'd instead silently thank her the next day – but that didn't mean that it didn't hurt. It did. She felt cut by it just as much as he did.

"I bet you're terrible to share a bed with," Riza said gently, trying to pull the tension out of the air. "You probably sleep in the middle and hog all the blankets."

Roy tore his eyes away from her and chuckled as he pulled himself upright. "You know me too well." He pushed the door open and stumbled out of the car. Before he shut it though, he turned around to face her again. "Thank you, Lieutenant. Sorry for waking you due to my being an idiot."

"You're my idiot though," Riza said fondly. Hers. He smiled at that. Maybe it wasn't in the sense that either of them secretly wanted, but it was the truth.

"Another night then," Roy said, like a promise that one day things would be different.

For a moment, she pictured him coming home late after a night out, stumbling and cursing around the bedroom as he stripped down before crawling into bed and slipping under the blanket, wrapping his strong arms around her and pulling her close against his chest. She pictured the way he'd nuzzle his face into her hair and how his breath would smell a bit like whisky, but he would hold her and nip at her neck and she would smile contently.

Perhaps one day.

"Goodnight, Colonel."

"Goodnight, Lieutenant."


	48. Side of Face

**Author's Notes:** I'm really proud of how this one came out, for some reason. I think it's because I don't write them in the military capacity very often. Thanks for reading and the follows!

* * *

 _48\. Side of Face_

* * *

She could only see the side of his face, but she could tell even from that angle that whatever expression on his face did not spell good news for anyone. His already sharp jaw was set so firmly that she was certain that he was close to grinding his teeth and the one eye she could see was narrowed and filled with unchecked disgust. If she had been able to get closer to him, she would've laid a hand on his shoulder to remind him to reign in that emotion, but as it stood, she was forced to stand at attention at the other side of the room and bite her tongue.

For the most part, when they were given missions, the Colonel was given leeway to use his team at his discretion. They worked well together and had a high success rate, all things considered. Mustang's penchant for laziness and arrogance was well-known throughout the military and yet his team produced dazzling results. She knew that it had very little to do with the way that she pushed him through that laziness. It was quite the farce.

This time, however, they were being forced under the command of General Moore, and the man was absolutely ruthless when it came to his tactics. Hawkeye remembered him from the Ishval War, surely as Mustang did, and the fact that his team, himself included, was being placed in the hands of a man that had shot one of their own in the back for trying to run away from the horrors they were committing, a man that she personally had witnessed shoot an Ishvallan child in front of his parents…

Hawkeye blinked the memory out of her mind. Just thinking of that made her fingers itch for her guns, but she refused to move. No doubt Mustang was thinking the same things. She could see it in the way that his cheek twitched and how completely unmoving he was as he listened to his superior talk about their plan to deal with an uprising of insurgents on the Aurego border.

To his credit, General Moore was everything that the Amestrian military could ask for. He was pragmatic in his brutal patriotism, absolutely cold when it came to dealing with any rebellions, handled any dissent among his insubordinates with a firm hand, and left no room for a guilty conscience. He was too harsh and had too much blood on his hands to rise any further, but he seemed fine with the power that he had now, the perfect soldier to follow the Fuhrer's more controversial orders.

It was for this reason that Colonel Mustang had been chosen for this operation. His alchemy powers were of renowned strength. He had helped almost single-handedly end the Ishval War. General Moore wanted a show of power; he wanted to shatter any thought of rebellion. He didn't want to just crush these rebels; he wanted to annihilate them completely. That was where Mustang came in. His team was merely an added bonus. It also seemed to help that Mustang did not want to do this. The General took extra satisfaction in that, his face turning smugger every time his eyes landed on the Colonel.

The vision of taking her service weapon out and shooting Moore clean in his head popped into her mind's eye, and she had to suppress the insubordinate thought down. She'd been so loyal and obedient to Mustang for so long that she sometimes forgot how much she loathed following anyone else.

To think that his alchemy would be once again used for destruction, for murder…

Hawkeye closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She could not allow that and neither could he, but then he also could not ignore a direct order from a commanding officer. What a complicated weave they'd fallen in.

As the General sat down, having completely described the plan for this operation, Hawkeye opened her eyes and watched in resigned horror as Mustang leaned back in his chair and openly sneered. The man was excellent at playing politics, but every now and then, he couldn't help himself. He was emotional, whether he realized it or not, and that got him in trouble, especially when he was angry. And he wasn't just angry, no. He was volatile, just like the flame alchemy that had garnered him his title.

"These plans, as expected, are overkill and absolutely unnecessary, _sir_ ," Mustang stated without a hint of regret. Not for the first time did Hawkeye wonder just where his reckless insubordination came from and if Edward had not somehow gotten it from him.

Moore scowled. "Overkill? Do you think a plot to throw over the government is not important?"

"They've hardly done anything to could begin to describe an attempt to crumble our government," Mustang scoffed. He was right, but she wished he wasn't so blunt about it. Normally he was a lot smoother than this, but apparently he was too wound up to be so. "All of their attacks have been on minimally civilianized areas and their bombings have only been on empty buildings. There was only one casualty and that was only because the officer was in the building after hours. That death alone was unfortunate and tragic, but not intentional."

"How long do you think before they escalate to mass murder?" Moore demanded.

"A lot quicker if we jump the gun to it first," Mustang snapped back, jerking forward to glare heatedly across the table at the other man.

Moore snorted and waved a dismissive hand in the air. "Is this fear I'm hearing from the Hero of Ishval? It has been a while since you've been on a mission as dangerous as this. Perhaps it's out of your league. Have you lost your touch with your alchemy?"

Even though she couldn't see him full on, the look on her Colonel's face suggested that he would like nothing more than to show Moore firsthand just how little he'd lost touch with his flame alchemy. Though she knew that he wouldn't have done anything, Hawkeye felt the grateful that his ignition gloves were in her pockets and not on his hands.

She could tell that he was beginning to lose control of his rage, so close to a man that brought back the roaring memories of their time in war. Mustang placed his elbows on the table and propped his chin on his fisted hands as he looked at his superior officer. The heat died down in his dark eyes just slightly, but not enough to the point where she couldn't see it. That was dangerous in itself. If he managed to hold it all in now, there was a strong likelihood that he would blow up later. Better in the privacy of his office than here though.

"Perhaps it is fear," Mustang managed in tight voice, "but not the kind you're suggesting. This is important, but it's also a very delicate matter. Our relationship with Aurego is tenuous at best, and this rebellious faction could push it in either direction. It's a powder keg, waiting to explode, but if we do what your plan says, then we will be the ones igniting it. We won't squash a revolt; we'll start a war. If that's what you and the brass want, then you don't need this mission; just make the damn declaration."

The two officers stared one another down as the dust of Mustang's explosive statement settled. Hawkeye did not look away, though she could see the other officers in the room shift uncomfortably. Moore's own adjutant, First Lieutenant Connors, tugged at his collar and shot Hawkeye a nervous look. The fact that she didn't respond to him spoke volumes in of itself.

Seeing as how Moore didn't seem to know how to respond, Mustang stood up from his seat. "If you can excuse me, General, I have other issues that need to be taken care of." He saluted, but the gesture came off as more mocking than anything else. "I will be awaiting further orders, sir." He strode towards she stood and she handed him his jacket, which he swung on as they walked out the door together with her a step behind him.

Hawkeye waited until they were nearly to their office before she said anything out loud. "Sir…"

"I won't do it," Mustang growled, his fists clenching at his side. "That plan was a bomb, and I'm not going to be the one to light it. Not again." When she said nothing in response, he halted in his steps, his eyes trained on the ground. "I promised you. That's…that's not who I am anymore – not what I am."

"You're a Dog of the Military, sir," Hawkeye pointed out, though not unkindly. She hated it just as much as he did, because of what it did to him and because she had been the one to help place him here in the first place. "I doubt they will give you leeway because of a promise you made to a girl long ago."

Mustang cast her a sideways glance, full of cold mocking. "I suppose this is what I signed up for, isn't it? To be a human weapon."

"Hm." Hawkeye gave him a slight smile. She had faith in him: faith that he would be able to pull through this without compromising himself or anyone else on his team, faith that he would not falter in his person goals, faith that he would not fail her. "It's unfortunate for them that you're a weapon that can think – and a lot better than they give you credit for."

Mustang looked at her for a beat and then blew out air. He turned his eyes forward and started walking again. "Stroking my ego is not like you, Lieutenant. Did Moore piss you off that much?"

When she didn't answer, Mustang grinned a little. Yes, he had. The man had pissed her off very much.


	49. Cold Hands

**Author's Notes:** I mostly agree with you, **Lin** , about Riza probably being a good patient - but like you said, I thought the idea of her being stubborn about something would be funny. After all, she does not like being out of the field and away from her job. And thank you! Moore will come up here and there when I need to use someone as the typical military bad guy. In retrospect, I could've used Basque Grand, but I wasn't thinking straight. Thanks for the follows and reading! Here's something light and fluffy since I got a little emotional in the next two. Oops.

* * *

 _49\. Cold Hands_

* * *

By the time he slipped into the bedroom, she was already asleep. Roy cursed under his breath at himself as he looked at the still figure in the bed. He was surprised that he'd been able to get inside without waking her, seeing as how she was such a light sleeper and hated being snuck up on, but apparently the past few days of work had even managed to exhaust her. He quietly went about stripping out of his clothes until he was just in his boxers, not even bothering with pajamas, and tiptoed to the side of the bed.

She really was beautiful, even if she didn't wear silky lingerie like he teased her about. For a moment, he hesitated as he looked down at her. Maybe he should go sleep on the couch. He didn't want to wake her, not when she'd been so tired all day. There was a blanket in the closet. It'd be easier…

"Are you going to get into bed or are you just going to stare at me?" Riza mumbled from the bed, not moving or rolling over to face him. If he hadn't heard her voice, he would've thought that she was still asleep. "Because it's getting kind of creepy."

Roy harrumphed, feeling a hint of indignation (he was _not_ creepy), and slipped into bed next to her. After pulling the covers over himself, he wiggled around on the mattress unless her back was pressed against his chest. Once that was settled, he pushed her tank top up slightly that he could settle his hands on her bare stomach.

"Oh my god!" Riza jumped away from him, wide awake, and rounded on him so suddenly that he leaned back away from her as well. It was dark in the bedroom, but he could see how big her eyes were. At her shout, Black Hayate jumped on the bed and barked once, fully intent on protecting his owner.

"What?" Roy shot back, more confused than anything else. His heart had leapt into his throat when she'd shouted, especially after his attempts at being so quiet to keep from waking her.

"Your hands are cold," Riza accused, actually wiggling away from him.

Roy practically scowled. "That's why I was hoping you'd help warm them up since you've been snuggled under the covers for a while."

"You're the human body heater," Riza pointed out, "not me."

"Well, yeah, but it's snowing and I wasn't wearing any gloves." Roy reached out for her again and she jerked away from his touch again, but he managed to snake a hand on her hip and another on her arm, pulling her to him again. She struggled, but her muted protests were shouts mixed with laughter. They fought against one another under the blanket, her weakly trying to get his hands off her as she complained of the cold and him torturing her even further by sliding his hands on her skin.

Minutes later, their chests were pressed up against one another, her face in the crook of his neck, their legs tangled, and his hand on the small of her back, and they stopped in their play fight, both breathing heavily. The cold that he'd been trying to shake from his bones was long gone, replaced by the warmth that the blankets and her body provided him. Even now, he couldn't help but be amazed at how well their bodies seemed to fit against one another, like pieces of a puzzle he had yet to figure out completely. What if he'd never known this? What if he'd never given himself the opportunity to know what it felt like to simply be with her?

"See," Roy said triumphantly, kissing the top of her head. "That wasn't so bad, now was it?"

In response, Riza nipped at his skin, causing him to startle, and she laughed lightly. "Very rude of you, sir."

"You expect gentlemanly behavior from me?" Roy asked her cheekily.

"From you?" This time, when she pressed her lips against his neck, she didn't use her teeth and when she dragged her fingernails lightly down his back, he felt a different kind of warmth pool in his gut. "Not right now."

Roy grinned in the dark. Well, that was one way to get rid of the cold that he could definitely enjoy, no matter how tired he was tonight.


	50. Fingertips

**Author's Notes:** Fun fact - I started writing this and then took a break to watch an episode of FMA 03, which turned out to be the episode where Hughes is killed. And then I had the pleasure of coming back to finish this. I stabbed myself with feels.

* * *

 _50\. Fingertips_

* * *

Roy still couldn't believe how tiny this blob's fingers could be, no matter how hard he stared down into the bassinet. They were so small and weak that they could barely manage to wrap around one of his fingers. He'd never had large hands, all things considered, but he positively dwarfed the living pile of goo gazing up at him. Due to the nature of his job and that he was forced to deal with criminals, he pictured trying to fingerprint something so small and imagined what a nightmare it would be.

The idea was kind of funny and he actually considered bringing in a kit for fun, but Roy could also only imagine how much Hughes would flip a shit if he caught his best friend trying to fingerprint his newborn daughter. Gracia probably wouldn't let him visit for weeks. With a sigh, Roy pulled his hand out of the bassinet and shook his head at the baby gurgling and wiggling around. With Hughes as a father, it would be difficult for the girl to do anything out of line when she was older. He had a lot of practice thanks to dealing with his best friend.

"Isn't she the most beautiful thing that you've ever seen?" Hughes practically cooed from the doorway.

Shooting his friend a quick glare to warn the man to be quiet, Roy realized what he was doing and then had almost glared at the baby, as if she was at fault for causing him to act so ridiculous. He stepped away from the bassinet and out of the room so that Hughes could quietly shut the door behind them.

"I could do better," Roy quipped, raising his chin proudly.

Hughes looked like he was close to slapping his friend, but then recovered fairly quickly when he realized that he didn't want to start a fight right outside of his child's bedroom. He straightened himself and scoffed. "As if you'll ever find a woman that would actually want to have children with you." Sighing, like it was the most tragic thing in the world, he placed a hand on Roy's shoulder. "Having kids isn't for everyone – believe me, I didn't know if it was for me or not until I met Gracia – but would it hurt to not be so cynical about it?"

Roy eyed his best mate out of the corner of his eyes. "Do you take me as someone that is capable of settling down and having a family? I don't have time for such…frivolity."

"Even the Fuhrer has a wife and son," Hughes pointed out, logical as ever even with such an emotional topic. "The people do like a family man."

"Well, then maybe you should be gunning for the top instead of me."

Hughes laughed and waved his hands in the air. "Oh, no, definitely not. I'm plenty happy with what I have now. It's more than I deserve, most like, but I'm not going to be ungrateful about it."

With a shake of his head, Roy walked ahead of him into the living room. "Then try not to force your lifestyle on other people." His eyes swept the room and took in its quaintness in the pictures around the room, the simplicity of its neatness, the absolute normalness of the whole scene. It felt strange to a man that had couldn't remember what a normal family looked like. "I honestly don't know if I could be happy with…this."

"Ah, don't go blaming this on your untraditional upbringing," Hughes warned, like he could hear what Roy was thinking, as he poured them drinks.

To his credit, Roy did allow a sheepish grin to cross his face in response, but then took the glass of whiskey that Hughes passed to him. "It might have something to do with it." He put his lips to the glass and then hesitated in taking a sip before lowering the glass again. "I'm happy for you, Maes. I truly am. I see the way you are when Gracia is around. She really has helped you. God, you're going to be such an annoying bastard now that Elicia is born. Bugging me about a wife was one thing, but kids too?"

"What an absolute gift, I've been given," Hughes gushed. His glasses gave off that sneaky gleam that Roy had come to loathe. "I've more got more beautiful women in my life than you ever will."

Back when they were in the Academy, Roy might've chucked his glass at Hughes, but instead he settled for snorting derisively. "You don't think Madame Christmas is beautiful? I'll tell her that. She'll be wounded."

"We both know that I'm not talking about your foster mother right now," Hughes added, something close to a smug look on his face that had nothing to do with how beautiful of a child he and his wife created together. When Roy merely snorted and took a sip of his whiskey, Hughes took that as a sign to continue, because he was clearly an evil man with designs. "So you've never thought about having a kid? Not once?"

Roy sighed. "Truthfully? Maybe twice – the first time when you told me that Gracia was pregnant and the second when you called to let me know that she'd given birth."

Hughes smiled brightly. "My wife is truly an inspiration."

"But even then," Roy pushed on, setting the empty glass down on the coffee table, "they were only passing thoughts. I don't have much experience with children. Hell, the only kids I've been around have been Fullmetal and Al and they don't exactly fit the typical bill of 'kids'."

"You are like a father to them though," Hughes interjected.

Roy shot his friend a glare. "That's cruel to accuse. Fullmetal is a brat at best, and if that's any sign of how good I am at fatherhood, then I sure as hell shouldn't have kids."

"Oh, come on, you can't tell me that you've never once considered what it would be like to pass your genetics along to someone else, to teach them everything you know, to help raise them to be the person you hope to be."

"I'm still trying to become the man I hope to be. I don't need to add the pressure of having to do that with a child. And I've got my entire team to look after."

"Pft." Hughes waved a hand at him and set his drink down as well. Normally, Hughes settled on his 'argue about a settled life' routine after he'd had a few drinks, but apparently Elicia's birth had put some new gusto in his step. At least he wasn't crying. "That's what Lieutenant Hawkeye is for. She's certainly got the…scary maternal role down pat when it comes to your unit."

If Roy didn't know any better, he probably would've fallen for that line, but he knew bait when he saw it, especially when it came to Hughes talking about his adjutant. He'd fallen for it multiple times, but he wasn't anywhere near as drunk as he was those times. Hughes was just losing his edge because he was emotional over having a baby. The man was absolutely impossible. The other day, he'd cried to Roy about how beautiful his newborn daughter was – literally cried.

"The Lieutenant is a professional," Roy said stiffly. He needed another drink.

"Well, she cares for those Elric boys a lot more openly than you do," Hughes replied, "although I don't think she realizes it either. Both of you are stubborn to a fault."

Roy was not about to respond to that. He knew better. It was just bait. The three of them had something of a pact between them, something unspoken, where they knew things about each other that no one else knew. Riza knew certain things about him that Hughes didn't know and vice versa. This topic was one of those things that Hughes knew, and he liked to dig deep with that knowledge. He just wanted to help, Hughes reasoned, but it still aggravated Roy to no end. He would not jump to the occasion.

"I wonder what Hawkeye would be like as a mother," Hughes sighed.

It took everything in Roy not to choke on his own tongue. Riza as a mother? She hadn't expressed the desire to have children, not even when they were teenagers. Her family hadn't been very child-oriented and she could barely remember her mother. He thought she was afraid of leaving a child behind, as her mother had, and it was a responsibility that she couldn't uphold. She was absurd, of course. Responsibility was an integral part of Riza's very nature. She came off as cold, completely firm, but he knew that she had a warm heart. Despite the fact that she hadn't much experience with kids either, she was always so warm with Edward and Alphonse, yet strict when they needed it. Roy thought…

He pictured Riza holding a child, smiling tenderly down at the bundle, and for some unknown reason, the child had a mop of black hair instead of blonde.

Roy harrumphed. "I wouldn't know. I've never thought of it, seeing as how it isn't professional."

"Hm," Hughes said with a knowing smile, "I'm sure you haven't."

Damn that man. Why were they friends anyways?


	51. Embracing from the Back

**Author's Notes:** I saw 50 and didn't even realize I'd hit the middle-mark. Wow, I'm observant. Thank you all so much for being a part of this! It was such a joy, **DogsRule82021** , to see all those reviews from you! Thank you! There will definitely be more Black Hayate and even more parental!Royai going on, even some Winry as well. And **Enghel** , if that last one made you miss Hughes, well, um, sorry about this one in advance? Will I ever be over Hughes? Ask Roy. Coincidentally, it's the same answer.

* * *

 _51\. Embracing from the Back_

* * *

For once in her life, Riza did not know what to do with the man standing in front of her. She'd seen him upset before a handful of times, distraught over her father's death, devastated in Ishval, and crushed after marring her skin – but she had never seen him so utterly _broken_ before.

When she stepped into his office to tell him that she was leaving, she'd stopped before even starting, eyes locked onto his back. He stood stiffly in front of the window, staring out and seeing nothing, but she could tell from the look of his body that it was taking everything in his power to keep still. He was holding himself together, one hand clutching a fistful of his jacket at his side and the other pressed flat against his leg, shoulders tense to the point that it probably hurt. She could see that if he let himself go even the slightest bit, he would begin to tremble and might never stop.

Riza never wanted to see him like this. Her heart ached, thudding slowly in her chest, as she watched him and she felt like she could barely breathe, like all the air had been sucked out of the room. This wasn't the Colonel in the room. It was _Roy_ , and he was very much hurt. It was her job to protect him, but there was nothing she could do to shield him from this wound. This was no gunshot injury, no physical attack, nothing she could fight against and protect him from, and that was what made this all the more frustrating.

It had been five days since Maes Hughes' murder.

Five days of pained silence, blank expressions, and dimmed eyes. She hadn't seen his eyes so bloodshot on that first day since Ishval. If there was one thing that could have broken down the man she believed in, it was the death of his best friend. She watched closely for any signs of Roy unraveling, but he put up a good show in front of her and the team. There were no drunken calls in the middle of the night for a ride, no sloppy mistakes in his paperwork, no late appearances or him being more distant than usual. Besides that first day, everything seemed perfectly normal.

Too normal, too professional, too clipped and tight.

She saw a man that was so tightly wound in his need to appear perfectly fine that he was ready to shatter at any given moment. And she knew – she knew that the time was now and there was absolutely nothing that she could do to prevent it.

A part of her wondered if perhaps she should leave, step out of the office and pretend that she had seen nothing. After all, this was a very private part of his life. Roy didn't like to show when he was upset in front of others. He'd show any other emotion, but not that one. It came out wrong, he said. He slipped too easily into anger whenever he was upset and he hated for people to see him like that. It was sloppy and painful. He'd want to be alone in this broken moment.

But then she knew that she couldn't do that. Orders to leave him be damned, she couldn't leave the man alone when he was like this. Maybe he'd snap at her – perhaps even yell – but she didn't care. It wouldn't hurt her, but leaving him to fight this madness on his own would.

Riza had no clue what she was supposed to do, so she did the only thing that she could think of. Taking a deep breath, she crossed the room so that she was standing right behind him. She hesitated for only a moment, her hand hovering an inch from his back, and then forced herself to push through.

With a sort of steady confidence that hid the shakiness of her heart, she wrapped her arms around him and pulled his body against hers. He jolted at first, perhaps having not heard her come in, so rigid and shocked by the physical touch. His chest shook for a moment as he took a haggard breath and then he leaned into her, seemingly melting in her arms. She closed her eyes and leaned her head onto his shoulder, willing any strength she had left to bleed into him.

Roy hung his head and his body began to quiver in her arms. She didn't say a word when something splashed on her hand and he said nothing either. Words didn't need to be said out loud, not when he could feel everything that she was trying to convey with this simple touch. Soothing wasn't one of her strong points, but she knew Roy. He needed to know that he wasn't alone – that this struggle was worth it – but he couldn't afford to show that to anyone else.

It certainly wasn't appropriate, but she knew that if she didn't ground him, he'd lose his balance. It was her job to make sure that he stayed on the path to accomplish his goals. Hughes' death threw him off course. Though he would be loathed to admit it, Roy needed to allow himself time to grieve, to be weak, so that he could become stronger for it in the long run, and if she needed to help him do that, then so be it.

Besides, she was strong enough to admit that she needed this too.


	52. Hair Clip

**Author's Notes:** Something short and sweet. Thanks for reading!

* * *

 _52\. Hair Clip_

* * *

After using it for so many times and throughout plenty of stressful situations, Riza was dismayed when her favorite hair clip broke while she was in the middle of absentmindedly fixing it. She sat at her desk, looking down at the plastic pieces, and sighed. It wasn't her only hair clip, of course, and it really wasn't anything special, but she had worn it much more often than any of the others. Strange, that it would break so easily, when she'd worn it while chasing down criminals, shooting at the gun range, even sparring with others.

None of the other men in the office seemed to notice, but it didn't matter. Things broke. People moved on. It was just a silly hair clip, one that she'd owned for years. Her eyes drifted towards the Colonel's shut door before dropping back to the broken clip. It was just a plain clip, but the Colonel had given it to her two years ago for her birthday when it had become apparent that her hair needed put up while at work. He'd teased her for wanting something so practical for her birthday, but she'd told him that if he was determined to get her something, she didn't want anything else.

That had nothing to do with why it was her favorite hair clip. Most definitely not. It just always seemed to be the one that she grabbed more often than not.

With one final look, Riza held her hand over the trash bin and slowly twisted her wrist so that the broken hair clip fell into the bin piece by piece. Just as she returned to her work, Roy stepped out of his room, rubbing the back of his neck and looking aggravated, most likely due to the phone call he'd just received from Hughes. The man did know how to heckle Roy in ways that he wouldn't allow from anyone else.

"Lieutenant Hawkeye," Roy sighed, not looking at her.

Riza set her pen down. "Sir?"

"I need you to go to the records office and pull these files," Roy told her as he pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and placed it on her desk. "It's been a month since Fullmetal has pulled any stunts, so of course he has apparently gotten himself into something ridiculous once again."

Without complaint, Riza took the paper and looked it over. This was work that any of them could've done, but she didn't mind. It'd be nice to get out of the office and walk around. She was never one to complain about paperwork, but even she didn't enjoy sitting at a desk all day and this had been a very slow week. She could see Havoc perking up out of the corner of her eyes. If Edward really did get into something, it stood that they might also become involved and something exciting might happen. There was a rule that said if Edward was involved, it was usually dangerous.

Before she could leave though, Roy blurted out, "Why is your hair down?" She gave him a quizzical look, especially as the men in the room turned to look at her. Roy seemed to realize that he'd voiced his thoughts out loud without thinking. "Make sure to put it up. I'd hate to have to write you up for a dress code violation because of that."

If Roy had his way, her hair would've probably always been down and she'd been in a miniskirt, but as it stood, he wasn't the one in charge of military uniform regulations.

"Yes, sir." Riza did the only thing she could do and fished out a rubber band from her desk. It wasn't going to be pretty and it would probably end up being painful to get out later, but there was nothing else to be done. She pulled her hair into a quick ponytail and then left for the records office.

It didn't take her long to reach the room – in fact, it took longer for the clerk to find the files that Roy needed – but she didn't mind. She pulled at her ponytail as her hair fell on her shoulders and swayed in the air, but for the most part, she kept her mind blank. Slow week. They always followed the busy ones, mountains of paperwork, reports, and research. She'd miss it once they were back in the thick of things, but it was hard to think of it that way when she was in the middle of nothing.

Riza stepped back into the room and walked into Roy's room without looking around. After handing him the files, she asked, "Is there anything else, sir?"

"Not right now, Lieutenant." Roy leafed through the files. "Thank you. Dismissed."

She slipped out and walked back to her desk when she stopped and stared down at what was sitting on top of the folders. It was a hairclip. But it wasn't just a new one. She knew without looking in the trash bin that the perfectly functional clip was the one that she'd thrown away just thirty minutes before. Picking it up gingerly, she examined it, but found that it looked more than brand new, not a hint of wear and tear or that it had ever been broken in the first place.

Smiling to herself, Riza sat down and gently pulled her hair out of the rubber band ponytail, securing it again with her favorite hairclip. Though no one in the room seemed to notice what was going on, she caught the small smile on Fuery's face as he worked on the radio. She didn't need anyone to explain to her what had happened while she was gone for her to know. Sometimes, it paid to know someone that knew alchemy, even if it meant doing something as simple as using alchemy to fix a hairclip.


	53. Sigh

**Author's Notes:** Thank you all for the reviews! **Couple of Luck** , I'd like to think that Hughes took every opportunity he could to point out Roy's feelings about Riza to him. Friends will keep their mouth shuts; best friends will be unbearable. And yes, **Enghel** , I needed to write something sweet after the two chapters before that. So much angst. And it took me over half the damn prompts, but I finally got around to writing one with Winry!

* * *

 _53\. Sigh_

* * *

This was supposed to be a special day – and it was truly beautiful – but Riza felt more out of place than ever before. She didn't really know how she'd found herself in this room with all the other women in a town that she'd only been to a handful of times, but she'd agreed to it without even thinking and now there was no backing out. Besides, she wasn't the one that was supposed to be nervous, but the young woman in question was beaming and practically glowing in her beautiful wedding dress.

Riza sat on the edge of a bed, smoothing out her light pink dress, and watched as the other women continued to help Winry Rockbell get ready for her wedding that was about to begin. It helped that she wasn't the only one that felt out of place in their bridesmaid gown. Winry's friend from Rush Valley, Paninya, tugged at the skirt of her dress, like she was worried that it wasn't long enough, but she gritted her teeth into a smile and didn't complain. Riza could admire the young woman for that. She wasn't comfortable, but this wasn't her day.

Fighting back a sigh, Riza forced her own smile onto her face. This was a wonderful day, and she was extremely happy for Winry and Edward both. She could still remember talking to Edward when he'd come to return her gun to her and how hysterical he'd reacted when she'd pointed out that he was protecting Winry because he'd loved her. Oh, how she'd smiled and laughed to herself after he'd left. The poor boy had had it bad for his childhood friend and truthfully still did. It was entirely too sweet to watch the way he was with his fiancée.

If she had thought it plain that Edward was in love with Winry then, it was obvious as hell now.

Once Winry was mostly taken care of, the rest of the women frittered around to get ready as well. There wasn't that many of them, but the room was small, but it still managed to fit all the women. Pinako Rockbell didn't worry too much about her appearance, instead taking the time to help the other girls. There was a girl from Resembool that Winry had known for most of her life, Paninya of course, and then Princess Mei Chang, who had come for the wedding with Alphonse. All of them wore beautiful matching dresses.

Riza's alone was different, the same color, but with a high neckline so that her back was covered, along with most of the scar on her neck. The top part of the front was sheer with pretty designs and then a light pink material that fell to the middle of her thighs. It was a little shorter than she and Paninya would've liked, but the measurements had come out wrong. Winry had been upset, but Riza had promised her that it wasn't a problem.

She almost hadn't stopped Winry from throwing a wrench at Edward when he'd pointed out, _"That's going to have General Bastard distracted all day."_

Once again, Riza had to fight a sigh. She did not want to admit that she was nervous about Roy's reaction to her in such a short dress, especially since she hadn't worn a skirt this short since she was a teenager. After all, she was an adult. This was nothing. It was a simple dress on one day that Winry was to be the star of anyways. Riza was not going to sit in this room, a bundle of nerves, because of her superior officer. She did wish that Rebecca had been allowed to come in here with her, but at least she was here, even if it was as Havoc's date. The only other woman she knew was Gracia Hughes, but the woman had stepped out to help Elicia into her flower girl dress.

"Captain?"

Riza blinked out of her thoughts and found that Winry was looking down at her and biting her lip nervously. A soft smile found its way onto Riza's face. "You don't have to call me that today. Riza will do just fine."

"Oh, yes, Riza." Winry smiled. She looked positively radiant. Edward was going to get his socks knocked off. The young woman tittered for a moment and then sat down next to Riza on the bed. "I just… I just wanted to thank you for coming and being here. I know it startled you when I asked you to be a part of things, but… I needed you to know how important of a role you've played in my life."

At first, Riza merely stared back, not sure of what to say. As Rebecca would say, Riza was not excellent at forming female bonds, though it wasn't for lack of want. Strange as it was, even though she hadn't been around very much for Winry, Riza could honestly say that there was something about the younger woman that had impacted her as well. Even if it was something as simple as growing her hair out, the image of the girl she'd met what felt like a lifetime ago in this very house had stuck with her throughout the years. Winry Rockbell was a spitfire, someone that you couldn't forget. It was easy to see how Edward fell in love with her.

"Thank you for this opportunity, Winry," Riza replied earnestly, taking the younger woman's hands. They weren't soft, due to the all the time she spent working on automail, but that was something Riza could understand very well. She'd lost the softness of her hands years ago during her time at the Academy. Rough, hardworking hands that were meant to hold softer ones. "That means a lot to me, honestly. I am so happy for you. Are you nervous?"

Winry laughed lightly. "Not really. I'm more nervous that Edward will panic during the ceremony. He's not really one for public speaking, but he was determined to write his own vows. I could hear him lamenting to Alphonse all weekend over it."

Riza thought of all the times that Edward and Roy would get into it in Roy's office after a mission. She'd watch the dogged way the young alchemist would storm inside, everything he wanted to yell at Roy on the tip of his tongue, but when push came to shove, all the words would spill out in a flurry and he'd sputter and screech and then stomp right on back out. No game for the politics that came with being in the military. That was where he and Roy differed quite a bit.

"He loves you," Riza pointed out. "It's only natural that he wants to make this as special for you as possible."

"I can only imagine how many alchemy references he's going to make," Winry sighed. "He proposed to me using equivalent exchange."

Despite herself, Riza actually laughed. "Alchemists are _impossible_."

When Winry grinned, it was a lot more wry than before. "You would know, wouldn't you?"

"Hm, yes, I suppose I would." Riza understood what the look on Winry's face meant. But for once she wasn't going to get all flustered about it. She did know just how ridiculous alchemists could be. Edward was bad, but he couldn't possibly be any worse than Roy. "People sometimes get blinded by his rank, but the General is still an alchemist at heart. And an alchemist's brain works a lot differently than ours."

"Ed wasn't wrong, you know," Winry said. "General Mustang is in for the shock of his life."

Riza hummed. "It's not right for anyone to outshine the bride."

Winry shook her head. "I'm not worried about that. I've got Ed. I know everyone keeps saying that this is my day, but I want it to be special for everyone, including you. I think you deserve as much for all that you've done." She stood up and tugged to fix her dress. "Besides, it's ridiculous to think that the General is going to pay attention to any other woman here but you."

Letting that sink in, Winry left Riza to her own thoughts. For her part, she tried not to think about it. She wanted to focus on Winry and her big day. But in the end, it did turn out that both bride and groom were right. All the eyes in the room were on Winry and Ed – all of them except for one dark pair of eyes that focused on her with a dangerous sort of intensity that had Riza blushing almost nearly as pink as the dress she was wearing. Alchemists were an awful lot.


	54. O Child-sama

**Author's Notes:** Welcome back, Team Mustang antics and Roy's ridiculous jealousy! Thank you all for reading!

* * *

 _54\. O Child-sama_

* * *

"Welcome to Eastern Command, Lieutenant Colonel Porter." That was the gist of what Riza said. There had been a few more pleasantries distributed between military officials, but for the most part, all she had done was welcome the new officer to headquarters, give a few friendly suggestions, and offer any help should he need it. She did that for anyone that was transferred to Eastern, regardless of their sex, if only because she could still remember how it had felt when they had first come here.

However, the men on her team had a completely different idea of what had gone down. As she walked over to the table in the mess hall that they were sharing, she caught sight of Breda and Havoc snickering with each other, Fuery looking slightly distraught, and Falman appearing to be simply confused for once. Roy, on the other hand, looked like someone had taken a huge bite out of his sandwich and given it back to him.

At first, Riza figured she would ignore their odd behavior, but when it didn't stop immediately, she found herself distracted from her lunch and becoming irritated with them. "What seems to be the problem?" Keeping her voice calm was important. She was not about to fly off the handle when it might have nothing to do with her. She chided herself on being paranoid, but even she couldn't help herself.

"You sure were talking to the new transfer for a while," Breda pointed out in what he probably thought was a very sly tone.

"And you seemed awfully friendly," Havoc added with a decidedly stupid grin.

"Do you know him?" Falman asked, a little more innocently than the other two.

"Do you like him?" Fuery burst out.

Roy said nothing but continued to stare her down.

Riza blinked. She'd begun to scowl, but Fuery had startled the scowl right off her face. "I merely welcomed him here, just as we all were welcomed when we were first transferred here. I don't know him, so I cannot ascertain on whether he's likeable or not yet." She shot Havoc a glare. The man didn't even flinch. That alone nearly caused her to scowl again. "And maybe I would be more 'friendly' if you all weren't complete asses at times."

Havoc had the gall to laugh. "Well you may have just been being pleasant and all, but it was pretty damn obvious that Lieutenant Colonel Porter had other things on his mind. All grins and laughs, touching you on the arm. I don't think his intentions could've been any clearer."

"He seemed professional enough," Riza replied stiffly as she picked up her sandwich. Still, Roy was quiet. She wished he'd quit looking at her like that. It was unsettling.

"The way he watched you when you walked away…" Havoc leaned back and whistled. "You would've shot him, Hawkeye – right on the spot. And you think I'm bad, oh boy."

Breda snorted. "Havoc looks downright subtle compared to him."

By now, it was taking everything in Riza's power to not flush or throw her food at the men sitting across from her. They were acting like children, really – and she wasn't going to be acting any better if they kept this up. And then she caught sight of Roy's face, and she nearly choked on her food. The Colonel looked positively wounded. He had an actual pout on his face.

Riza closed her eyes and sighed. "Ah, you all are hopeless. As if I would go for someone like that." When she opened her eyes, she smirked at them. "If he tries anything, he'll learn just how friendly I can be, hm?"

That seemed to take some of the tension out of Roy. Both Havoc and Breda laughed while Fuery dropped his shoulders in relief. Falman coughed into his hand and shook his head. As the smirk fell from her face and they all began to eat their lunch again, Riza swept her eyes over to Roy. He gave her a hint of a smile and then turned his attention to his food.

She didn't speak for the rest of their lunch and instead listened to the men's jumping leaps in conversation. She didn't mind joining in, but sometimes she liked to sit back and just listen. Her eyes did catch Roy looking at something behind her, irritation flickering across his face, but then she would shift so that she caught his attention and he would look away. She didn't need to look back to feel eyes on her. That skill came from being a sniper, it seemed. She ignored it nonetheless.

Once they were out of the mess hall and heading back to the office, Riza strayed behind Roy, as usual, as the other four men walked ahead of them, still deep in their conversation. "You know, I expect such petulant behavior from Edward, even Havoc sometimes," she said in a mild tone. When Roy shot a glare back at her, she made sure to keep her face straight as well, but he alone would know that she was teasing him somewhat. "I trust that you won't light up any of the new transfers, yes?"

"As long as they know not to touch things that aren't theirs," Roy replied tetchily.

Riza almost laughed, but managed to keep her expression as blank as possible. He made it so difficult to do that when he was in a childish mood. The man was in his late twenties, and yet he was impossibly possessive whether he realized it or not. He'd always been like that though. A psychiatrist might say that it had something to do with his being an orphan, but she just assumed that it mutated out of his desire to protect.

"I'm following you now, aren't I?" Riza told him, giving him a small smile.

For a tiny moment, a sheepish expression flittered across Roy's face, but then it vanished and his eyes turned ahead again. Riza shook her head. Such a child, at times, but she… Ah, well, it never annoyed her when it was about things like this.


	55. Infectious Crying

**Author's Notes:** Because I've been in nearly the same position, and so I decided to make Roy suffer as well. Thanks for reading and the follows! You guys are the best!

* * *

 _55\. Infectious Crying_

* * *

On one hand, the situation wasn't funny and didn't call for laughing at all.

On the other hand, there was really no other way Riza could react to Roy calling her at one in the morning, his voice shaking with effort as he begged her for help with "Hughes' precious demon child."

She made sure to hang up before pressing a hand to her mouth as muffled laughter tumbled out of it. Yes, it was in the middle of the night and he'd woken her up in his desperation, but she honestly couldn't be mad. The near two year-old could be heard in the background, screaming and crying as loud as could be, and then there had been Roy, pleading with her. Roy was not exactly paternal material – his radical behavior towards the Elric brothers could attest for that – but despite his hesitancy towards kids, he was fond of them.

However, perhaps his fondness of children could only last for so long. Three days and nights of babysitting for his best friend had apparently proven to be too much for him to handle alone. Why Hughes had thought it was a good idea for Roy Mustang of all people to watch his daughter while he and his beloved wife went on a romantic vacation together was beyond Riza – she still didn't know how Gracia had agreed – but she hadn't questioned it when Roy had told her that he was going to take Friday off so his friends could have their three day weekend of alone time.

She dressed quickly, mental pictures of Roy babysitting/house-sitting in the Hughes' household bouncing around in her mind. All of them made her smile and snicker to herself. Lucky for him she was a light sleeper and woke up easily. Also lucky for him was the fact that Hughes didn't live too far from her. His salary was a lot closer to hers than Roy's, so they lived in the same part of Central. When she parked out front, she noted that the lights were on in Hughes' apartment, meaning that Roy had most likely not convinced the child in question to sleep.

Though she didn't consider herself to be amazing with children anyways, Riza figured that two heads were better than one. The fact that she was considering her plan of attack on how to deal with a sleepy and distraught child made her sigh as she walked up the steps. She wasn't going to be much better than Roy. The little girl absolutely adored her "Uncle Roy," but he wasn't anywhere near on her father's or mother's level.

When Riza finally reached the door, she could hear warbling cries on the other side. Oh, this was not going to be pretty. She knocked and listened as someone stumbled, something crashed, and someone swore again before apologizing (to a child that didn't understand a lot of words yet). The door to the apartment finally opened to reveal a bedraggled Roy. Again, it wasn't funny, but he looked like such a mess that she had to press a hand to her mouth to keep herself from laughing.

"Oh, thank whatever higher power there is, you're _here_ ," Roy groaned, gesturing at her to hurry inside so that he could close the door and muffle the sounds of the crying baby girl.

Riza swept her eyes over at Roy as he ran his fingers through wild black hair and examined the scene. She hadn't seen Roy like this in… God, had she ever seen him like this? Maybe in Ishval, but that was it. Was she really comparing his looks after babysitting for three days to his time during war? But then it looked as if he'd been messing with his hair constantly and had dark circles under his eyes, which were wide and panicky. His clothes were absolutely rumpled and even had some green and orange goop on it in what she figured was food.

Quite frankly, Roy looked like he'd gone on a two day drinking bender.

And then there was Elicia Hughes, an adorable baby girl on most days, sitting in the middle of the living room in what looked like the entirety of her toys, head tilted back as she cried non-stop.

"She was fine, everything was fine," Roy was muttering, both of his hands in his hair now, "and then she woke up around nine, and she wouldn't stop… She hasn't stopped and it's been hours and I've done absolutely everything that I can think of, but I don't… I don't know what to _do_."

Riza's heart leapt into her throat when Roy gazed at her pleadingly. The Colonel looked practically in tears over the situation, like he was bordering on following Elicia in her infectious crying spout. She knew that she was going to have her work cut out for her when it came to deal with a crying child. She did not know if she could handle a crying adult along with it.

"Do you know why she's crying?" Riza asked delicately as she set her keys down on the side table.

"Hughes," Roy responded miserably, his shoulders sagging and his lips dropping into a deep frown. "She's been crying for Hughes since she woke up. But he's not going to be back until tomorrow morning. I tried everything, Hawkeye, I did. Milk, food, games, the songs Gracia told me to play if she ever got upset… I sang along with the songs. I _sang_." That spoke volumes of his desperation. Roy refused to sing even at his most inebriated. "But she just keeps crying that she wants her dad and I'm just a…a faulty replacement."

Riza looked at the crying child and then towards Roy. He'd probably paced a hole in the floor while trying to figure out how to calm Elicia. Truth be told, she didn't know what else she could do. She wasn't Gracia Hughes by any means and it might upset the little girl to find yet another person that wasn't either of her parents.

"I thought about calling them, but it's late, and I don't want to stress them out on their last night alone together," Roy said as an afterthought.

Riza found herself oddly touched by the statement. Maes Hughes was a man that loved both his wife and daughter without anything holding him back. He could spend hours gushing about his daughter to anyone in the vicinity. But even then, he and Gracia probably did wish that they could have at least a little alone time together, and Roy had stepped up to give them that when he might not have been the most capable person to do so. She knew right then and there that she had to help him complete this mission no matter what.

Taking a deep breath, Riza stepped into the battlefield, carefully maneuvering her way through all the stuffed animals and blocks, and then sat on her knees in front of the wailing little girl. "Hi there, Elicia."

For a moment, Elicia quieted, opening her eyes and taking a big sniff. A film of tears covered her big blue eyes that were red from crying. Her chubby cheeks were swollen even further from the saltiness of the tears. How she hadn't managed to run herself dry was a feat in itself. "Auntie?"

Riza felt something warm glow in her chest at the name. "Why are you crying? It's very late."

"I want Daddy!" Elicia cried out, her lips wobbling as tears threatened to spill out again.

"Daddy and Mommy will be home soon," Riza promised. "If you go to sleep, you can see them in your dreams."

At this, Elicia shook her head violently and her cries started anew, even louder than before. Behind her, she heard Roy groan, not in aggravation, but in despair. Then Elicia shouted out, "No sleep! No dreams!"

"No dreams?" Riza asked.

Elicia stammered through every word, her voice so tiny in between the cries. "No sl-sleep! B-bad dr-dreams! M-monsters in dr-dreams sc-scare me!"

A light bulb seemed to turn on in both adults' minds at once and they turned to look at each other at the same time. Elicia had had a nightmare. It was a common thing, perhaps maybe not in a child so young, but Hughes had said that his daughter was imaginative. They'd just figured it was him bragging about her as he always did. It was natural that she would want her father, the person in her life that she associated with safety, after having a nightmare about scary monsters.

"Oh, Elicia," Riza sighed, gently sliding her hands underneath the little girl's arms so that she could lift her up and pull the child into her arms. She sat Elicia on top of her knees so that Elicia could lean against her chest and she could wrap an arm around protectively. "Daddy will be home soon, but right now, Uncle Roy is here and I promise that he will do everything to protect you from any monsters or bad dreams."

At a glance from Riza, Roy practically jumped off the couch and sat down on the floor next to them. "That's right. Your dad told me to watch over you and protect you, just like he does."

Slowly, Elicia began to quiet again, her cries turning into sniffles, but she still whimpered here and there. Riza could feel the little girl getting weaker by the second. All the fighting she'd done to continue crying and stay awake was starting to get the better of her, but they couldn't stop before the battle was entirely won.

"You see, Uncle Roy works with your daddy," Riza continued as she stroked the child's brown hair. "And your daddy trusted Uncle Roy to take care of you while he and your mommy went on a trip."

Elicia sniffled and looked up at Riza with wide eyes. "Daddy says Aunt Riza protects Uncle Roy."

Riza couldn't help but smile. "Yes, I do, and that's why Uncle Roy called me. Extra protection for the most important little girl in all of Amestris until her daddy comes home."

For a while, Elicia stopped crying completely. She dropped her head and still against Riza's chest, to the point where Riza wasn't sure if she'd fallen asleep or not. And then Elicia began to wiggle in her arms. Riza loosened her grip, but then bit her lip as she watched Elicia hold out her arms to be picked up by someone else. Roy stared at the open arms with eyes flooded with confusion, exhaustion, and even a bit of fear. When he glanced at Riza, she merely nodded at him.

With more gentleness than she'd seen from him since they were teenagers, Roy took the little girl from Riza's arms and pulled her into his own. Elicia wrapped her tiny arms around Roy's neck as best as she could, snuggling up against him, and was out like a light in a matter of minutes. Roy sat there in shock. For the second time tonight, he looked like he might start crying, maybe out of relief or something else entirely.

Carefully, he got to his feet and carried Elicia back to her bedroom, setting about putting her back in bed and tucking her in. By the time Roy stepped out of the room and shut the door as quietly as possible, Riza was already to her feet and had gathered her keys. "I can't thank you enough for this," he sighed, exhaustion evident in his voice. It wouldn't be long before he followed Elicia to sleep most like.

Riza smiled. "I didn't do all that much. The moment she felt safe with you, she was fine."

"Yeah, but you figured it out," Roy told her. "I was about to lose my mind. The only upside is that it was the best practice I could ever get when it comes to handling Fullmetal." He paused and they stood in silence, she standing by the door and he unsure of whether to say anything else or not. "You were good. I mean, you were good – with her. I, uh, I guess I should've known. You're always able to calm down Fullmetal when he gets going."

"I was scared, trust me," Riza admitted. "A teenager is one thing, but a near toddler? Frightening."

When Roy smiled, it was full of relief. She'd felt like they were on the border of something that shouldn't be brought up – her with kids or him with kids, very dangerous topic – but by making a light joke out of it, she had been able to bring them back into safer waters. Even she felt slightly relieved.

"Again, thank you, Lieutenant," Roy said, formality returning to them. "I'll have to figure out a way to make this up to you."

"Just don't slack on your paperwork this week, and that'll be payback enough."

Roy snorted. "I should've known."

Of course Riza wasn't disillusioned enough to believe that he would actually hold up his end of the bargain, but she didn't get mad over it. She knew that he'd find another way to thank her. Much like a child fighting to stay awake for no real reason, he'd struggle to read any paperwork for the simple fact that he loathed it.


	56. Skillful & Clumsy

**Author's Notes:** I love my smol son. Roy does as well. He's just terrible at showing it.

* * *

 _56\. Skillful & Clumsy_

* * *

"You should be the one paying for this, not me! This is your fault, you idiot!"

"Idiot? I'm not the one stuck in a hospital bed."

"You will be once I'm through with you!"

"In that case, they'd have to give me a different bed, because that one is simply too small for me."

"Too small? Too small! It'll be the right size once I knock you down a few pegs!"

Riza sighed from the other side of the hospital room, placing a hand on her forehead to shield her dismayed expression. Once again, Edward had managed to get himself in the hospital after a mission gone wrong. She and the Colonel had come to see him, but some people might've thought it was more because Roy was bored and in need of some aggressive entertainment instead of checking up on a subordinate. He enjoyed riling the younger alchemist up far too much, but he usually waited until they were in his office.

Personally, she believed that Roy had wanted to make sure that Edward was okay, especially after the reaction she'd witnessed from Roy when he'd seen Edward getting injured, but he would deny it until his dying day and maybe even after that. It went without giving any orders that she was not to speak a word to anyone under any circumstances that Roy had flown into something between panic and rage when he'd seen one of the suspects stab Edward. She wasn't even to acknowledge that it happened.

Were all State Alchemists so hell-bent on being reckless and stubborn?

As far as Riza was concerned, both Roy and Edward could learn how to be a little more positive towards their emotions like Major Armstrong, minus the stripping and excessive crying. She didn't want to think about Edward crying for any reason and the idea of Roy taking off his shirt every time he performed alchemy would be too much for his arrogance as it was. Still, they both bottled their emotions and had a nasty tendency of transferring one emotion into anger, which was dangerous considering their alchemy.

"You needn't be so reckless on these missions, Fullmetal," Roy pointed out. "You don't need to jump headfirst into everything and start a fight."

Edward pointed a finger at his superior officer. "I didn't start a fight! You did! You started antagonizing them and then they attacked us! What was I supposed to do? Tuck my tail and run? That's your strategy!"

While not entirely wrong, Edward had a fairly skewed view of what had happened. It shouldn't have escalated the way it did, but that was what happened when you mixed volatile people with defensive people. They'd gotten intel that there was a building that housed former military officials trying to start a rebellion. It wasn't concrete, but they'd been ordered to investigate anyways and since Edward was technically one of Roy's subordinates, he'd been forced to join on command from General Moore.

What had started as them doing a sweep through the house had turned into a hostage situation, shootout, and a massive fight that ended with destruction. Things had been fine, if a little tense, and they hadn't found anything until Riza stumbled upon a hidden cache of weapons and then things exploded from there. It was true that Roy had said a few choice words, but he hadn't run once the fighting started. He'd refrained from his use of alchemy, using only his sidearm, until the very end when Edward was stabbed.

Riza wasn't exactly sure how only Edward had managed to find himself in the hospital, considering that the building had nearly crashed down on all their heads, but besides a few bruises speckling her body and a bandage over a cut on her arm, she was fine and Roy looked like he'd been in his office all day. Edward, on the other hand, had come out with two cracked ribs, a lump on his head, a stab wound in his gut, and a twisted ankle.

How did he manage to get himself hurt so well?

"Even if that was my strategy, at least I have one," Roy snipped. "See, that's the difference between us, Fullmetal. I'm skilled, strategic, and experienced whereas you are nothing _short_ of clumsy mess fully capable of stumbling into trouble."

Edward seethed in the bed, bearing his teeth like an animal ready to bite. "Who are you calling short?! And experienced is just another word for old!"

When indignation flared in Roy's eyes, Riza knew that the fight would devolve into an insult match that would end with Roy either storming out of the room or smirking all the way back to headquarters. Either way, she did not want to be a part of it. Sighing under her breath, she slipped out of the room just as Roy said, "At least I'm old enough to recognize stupid decisions when I see them, but oh, you can't, can you?"

She shut the door behind herself, Edward's screeching retort muffled somewhat. She shook her head at the two alchemists in the hospital room and then glanced up to see Alphonse standing nervously across from her. It was hard for people to determine what emotion Alphonse was feeling, considering he was a suit of armor, but over the years she'd learned how to read him. He was wringing his hands, glowing eyes staring straight ahead at the door, but was completely still and silent other than that.

"Is Brother okay?" Alphonse finally asked.

Riza smiled faintly. "He'll have to stay at least the night so that the doctor can make sure that there isn't any internal bleeding from the stab wound, but he'll heal just fine with some rest." If that shouting was any indication, nothing short of being knocked completely unconscious would keep that boy down.

"I've never…" Alphonse sat down in a chair, dwarfing the furniture. He was so big; it was easy for a lot of people to forget just how young he truly was. "I've never seen someone bleed so much before."

Of course, the younger Elric brother couldn't bleed and it seemed as if the older one bore more wounds as if to make up for it. Edward's anger so easily got the best of him sometimes. Riza imagined that if someone were to ever seriously anger Alphonse, it would be even more dangerous and scary. The idea that anyone would ever do something to upset him in such a way angered Riza in itself. She couldn't say that she'd ever had much of a maternal instinct, but if she did, these two boys brought it out of her.

"Stab wounds can be very messy, but you needn't worry. Any fluids he lost have been replaced. And the man responsible for injuring your brother is in custody and will be dealt with properly," Riza told him. Truth be told, she was rather surprised that the man was alive, even if he was also in the hospital and handcuffed to a bed. She doubted he would have been had Edward not been conscious. It had been a long time since she'd seen Roy so livid. He'd controlled his flame alchemy very precisely, keeping the man alive but making it a painful experience.

Alphonse didn't need to know that. Edward knew only vague details, and she was planning on keeping it that way. Some things were too much for him to bear. It was hers and Roy's job as adults to do that for them.

"Have you ever been stabbed?" Alphonse asked suddenly.

Riza nodded her head. "Twice."

She pictured Alphonse's eyes widening, though he couldn't do that in the armor. "Did it hurt?"

"Almost worse than being shot," Riza admitted.

"You've been shot too?"

"I'm a soldier. It's hard to avoid those things entirely." Riza glanced back towards the door. So far, Roy had only been shot once, when he was stationed in Ishval and before they'd crossed paths. Since she'd started guarding his back, he hadn't been shot, but then there was always a gun pointed at him, whether either of them could see it or not, whether she was the one holding it or not. She would do everything in her power to ensure that it never happened to Edward and knew that Roy would as well, even if he would never say it out loud. "Once was due to making a mistake; the other I took a bullet for someone else."

"The Colonel?"

Riza shook her head. "Master Sergeant Fuery."

Alphonse was silent for a while, looking down at his hands. "I forget how it is sometimes, you know? In this body, if I get shot or stabbed, it doesn't hurt. And injured isn't the right word – maybe broken is better – but it's hard to do that." He clenched his hands into fists. "But for everyone else, one shot, one stab, and it could be all over. It's that simple."

"That's why we protect our own," Riza told him, laying a hand on his shoulder. Alphonse turned to look up at her. Some people found his glowing eyes to be unsettling, but she'd always thought them calming. "We're a team and we protect each other – and that includes both you and your brother."

"Like a family."

Riza chuckled, just as she heard Roy and Edward shouting at each other simultaneously, proof that Edward was filled with life and the will to fight. "Yes, like a family, a very dysfunctional one, but together nonetheless." And they were her family, truly. She didn't have one anymore, save for a grandfather she still didn't know what to think of, but this could be her family now. She had the team, Roy, and two young alchemists.

What a ragtag family they were. She loved them for it though.


	57. Feigning Sleep

**Author's Notes:** Thanks for all the follows and favorites, everyone! I've been busy these last two days, so I apologize for not getting a chapter up. My time at home has been limited to sleeping.

* * *

 _57\. Feigning Sleep_

* * *

For all the years that she had known him, Riza knew firsthand just how stubborn Roy was. The man was on another level when it came to stubbornness, somehow in competition with Edward. His stubbornness reared its head during the least likely of times too, ranging from annoying to hazardous, and it was probably his resolute stubbornness that was going to be the death of her. She could point out that the coffee was too hot to drink yet, and he'd give her a defiant look before taking one large gulp and try not to choke or pant afterwards.

Obstinate to a fault, her Colonel. It was what made him an accomplished soldier and politician. He had a set goal in mind and he intended to achieve it no matter what. It also made him do plenty of foolish things as well. But if she were to ever point that out, he'd hotly deny it. An utterly ridiculous circle, but one that she had come to know quite well over the years.

His current lack of sight had brought this behavior to a new level. While she had been terrified at first, even heartbroken, after Doctor Marcoh's first visit, Riza felt the beginnings of a new hope glowing inside of her. It would be a few more days before he used the Philosopher's Stone to return Roy's sight to him, but that didn't slow him down in the slightest. There had been work to be done before that news and even more work now that they knew of what was to come.

He could've slacked. He could've fallen into a stupor. He could've done anything.

Instead, Roy Mustang became the most determined man in the military, perhaps even Amestris itself. Certainly he was the most ambitious State Alchemist by far. Very few others went beyond their given rank of Major. And here was Roy, haunted by his past, once hunted my Homunculus, blinded by Truth, and he was still gunning for the top.

He was also having trouble maneuvering around the hospital room and doing day-to-day things, but Riza never brought up those small struggles.

As with anything, Roy treated his current situation like it was more of an annoyance than anything else. He was slowly recovering use of his hands, something he seemed to take personal offense to considering his alchemy. No matter that he'd been stabbed in both hands and that it would take time for him to gain full use of them again. The fact that they hadn't healed right away was like an affront to him. Guns were an extension of her, but his hands were a part of him as much as they were the tools of his alchemy.

His blindness was even worse. She'd woken up multiple times to him furiously cursing under his breath while trying to shave. Finally, when she had suggested that she could help him, he'd reared on her so irritably that he'd bumped into a counter that he couldn't see and almost fell to the ground. He hadn't shaved in four days and was beginning to look quite scruffy for it, but that was better than trying to patch every nick on his skin. And then he refused to admit that he didn't know who walked through the door, speaking to anyone as if he knew who they were before they even opened their mouth.

The only person he seemed to recognize immediately was her. She could sigh or make any sort of noise, and he'd turn his face to her, even if he couldn't see her. Somehow, he knew exactly how she felt without even seeing her face, but then, he'd learned how to read her in various ways. She was known for being stoic and not showing her emotions on her face, so he had been forced to learn how to read her words as much as her silence. At least there was that bit of communication left between them, something she grasped onto greedily.

Riza wanted to help him – she truly did – but she also recognized the times when she should help him and when she should let him do things on his own, no matter how ridiculous it was.

Tonight was one of those nights when she wasn't sure what to do. She woke to her bed jerking and the soft voice of someone muttering, "Shit." Usually, when she was startled out of her sleep, she'd pop up and whip a gun out (and she most certainly had a gun on her even here, as the Colonel's last line of defense), but she recognized what was going on almost immediately.

Instead, she kept her eyes closed and listened as Roy shuffled around the room in total blindness, the fact that it was in the middle of the night completely lost on him. He was a restless sleeper, had been since Ishval, but it had grown worse over the past year. She knew that he couldn't sleep throughout the night. His sudden lack of sight only set him back even further, as his body had trouble distinguishing day from night. There was some more swearing and shuffling, but then the bathroom door opened and a light was flicked on.

Riza opened her eyes then and glanced towards the small bathroom. Roy stood in the doorway, wearing his hospital clothes, and stared blankly into the bathroom. With a cold snort, he flicked the light back off. He'd only turned it on out of habit, but he didn't need it and he didn't want to wake her either. Too late, of course, but he didn't need to know that he'd bumped into her bed and woken her.

She laid there silent and listened as he maneuvered around the bathroom, his hands slapping the walls and sink to find what he needed. The tap was turned on, filling a glass, and then he drank the water. She heard a sigh and then the sound of him very carefully setting the glass on the counter. He'd gotten better at that, but then she'd made sure to place everything where he could easily find things. If he was going to do everything on his own, she could at least help him without his knowledge, lest he injure himself or wake her up even more.

It was making his way around the hospital room that threw him off. It was an unfamiliar place. She was sure that if he was at his home or in his office, he would've been more or less fine, but he didn't know the terrain of this place and could only map it in his mind's eye without ever having seen it. According to him, this was no problem, as hospital rooms were all the same, but he'd been struggling quite a bit. She was almost certain that his toes were bruised from stubbing them so much and his hips from bumping into things.

Closing her eyes again, Riza lay still as Roy began to shuffle his way back to his bed – but then her eyes jerked wide open when she felt the other side of her bed dipping down. As if stricken by shock, she couldn't get a word out of her mouth or even turn around as Roy clambered into her bed. He thought it was his bed. The mattress creaked under his weight and he paused to curse again before sliding on his side.

Her heart hammered against her chest. She needed to say something, anything, but for some reason, her tongue sat thickly in her mouth and she couldn't get any words to come out. This was wrong and highly inappropriate and he would be beyond humiliated and blush was creeping up her cheeks, but–

My gods, all she wanted was to wrap her arms around him to remind both of them that they had survived. She hadn't really touched him since the Promised Day and hadn't done much of that beforehand, but after that day, she felt like something had shifted inside of her, a doorway had opened, and so much of what she'd kept underneath was pouring out. It took her holding herself back to keep it all in, but this was too much. Everything would spill out all at once if she didn't handle this delicately.

She felt him roll onto his side and reach a hand out to probably grab a pillow. When his hand landed on her hip instead, she could feel his entire body stiffen and heard him choke on his breath.

Neither one of them said anything. Riza tried to keep her body from being rigid, so that she could pretend to being just now woken up, but it was difficult when his touch was so hot that it seemed to burn through her pants. How could he not hear her heart beating so wildly though? And it sounded like he wasn't even breathing.

"Colonel?" Riza finally forced out, trying to make herself sound as groggy as possible. She was excellent at covert ops – she was great on the field – but suddenly she found herself struggling to lie to the both of them.

"Lieutenant." Roy's voice was flat. He sounded like that whenever he was embarrassed, like he was trying to eliminate every emotion from his mind. Still, his hand didn't leave her hip and that sent a few more sparks rattling up her spine to shoot of in her brain. "It…it appears as if I mistook your bed for mine."

A part of her wanted to tell him that she didn't mind, that he could stay, that she wanted him to stay, maybe even needed him, but Riza knew better than to say that. She knew how he felt on the matter, could feel it in the way that his fingers curled up against her hip. If he stayed next to her any longer, the carefully drawn line that they'd put in between each other would be crossed and there wouldn't be any looking back. They couldn't do that though. It wasn't right. It wasn't their time.

(She wanted him to be able to see her smile reassuringly before they did that, so that he would know without a doubt that she didn't regret any of her decisions whatsoever.)

Roy cleared his throat and said, "I apologize."

"An honest mistake, sir," Riza told him gently.

Nodding his head, Roy dragged his hand away from her, the lack of touch leaving something to be wanted, and climbed back out of her bed. With a hand on the mattress to keep track, he wandered around and then back to his own bed, which he crawled into. Despite the fact that he couldn't see her reaction, when he was under the covers, he turned so that his back was to her.

Riza closed her eyes. It would be a long time before either of them got back to sleep.


	58. Before Falling Asleep

**Author's Notes:** I'm slowly starting to process my Ishval feels from the past to the future. They're a little more hopeful. Thanks everyone for the follows and favorites! It's so lovely to get those notifications.

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 _58\. Before Falling Asleep_

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By the time Roy realizes that he's made it a habit, it's too late for him to stop now.

The reparations in Ishval are slow going, maddeningly so, and so he's started to do things to ease his mind and make himself less agitated. After all, newly minted as a general and here to repair what he himself destroyed, he can't afford to look anything less than committed to his job. He will never be able to right the wrongs that they perpetrated, and perhaps that makes him feel even more restless. This is work that will never truly be done. The wounds can't fully be healed, not for the people of Ishval and not for the men and women that razed it to the ground. All they can do is rebuild in every way, work hard, and hope for the best.

But that isn't enough by any means, certainly not for someone like him. He's spent years working his way to get here, to do these very things, and now that he's here, he has to work twice as hard. There are some days when he wakes up that all he wants to do is go home, but then he steps outside and sees the soldiers under his command working, men with hard red eyes lending helping hands, red-eyed women warily going about morning chores, and white-haired children kicking balls and laughing until they get too close to a soldier, and he knows…

He can't go home, not when they don't have a home, not when he helped take it from them. He steps into his boots and he gets to work and he doesn't go back to his tent until he only has a few hours before he has to get up again, and he does it every day without voicing complaint. He has no right and he knows that.

Still, Roy can't help himself when it comes to certain things. He knows that he has no right in this as well, but the only way he is ever going to get any sleep is to make sure that all of his closest men are okay. Perhaps it's a worry that lingers on from the Promised Day, a time when he thought that he'd lost all of them. Maybe it comes from the weeks where his sight was lost. Unable to see them, unable to protect them, he felt thrown off course, like he was sinking in an ocean that was ready to suck him under for good.

One thing is for sure though, now that he's started the habit of checking on them every night, he's not going to be able to stop it. His mind refuses to rest until he does so.

Before he retires to his tent, Roy makes rounds around the camp, checking in with sentries and the like, trying to appear as casual as possible. He spots Breda and Havoc playing cards by a fire and takes a deep breath when Havoc jumps to his feet and accuses Breda of cheating. Falman is awake in his tent, writing a letter by candlelight to the woman up North that he'd married after the Promised Day. Fuery is asleep in his tent, glasses askew and not entirely out of his uniform, snoring lightly and cuddled up with a walkie-talkie that he'd been messing with before passing out.

All of them together again. It wouldn't be like that for long. Falman only came down with Miles from Briggs and was planning on returning in a few months time once things were more settled. He looked so guilty when telling Roy that, though he doesn't begrudge his former subordinate whatsoever. It just reminds him of Hughes. Falman wants to be with his family, and it's only natural, especially after everything that has happened in the past year.

This is Roy's family though. He could never have had what Hughes had, what Falman did now, but Roy isn't angry or despondent about it. He was an orphan. His aunt chose him and made him a part of her family, and so he had chosen his family as well. Maybe they're a little cracked, certainly not normal, especially if you throw in Fullmetal and Alphonse (though Roy will only admit that when he is seriously tired), but they are his and he is very protective over them and proud.

The last person he checks on is the most important. He will never say it aloud, but it appears as if he doesn't have to. Everyone knows. Whether he likes it or not, no one brings it up or blames him, and he can't seem to help himself besides. No one here will ever know what it was like to watch her almost die. No one can possibly understand what it felt like to watch her bleed out and feel his life to seep out with hers. Everyone here has lost someone and almost lost someone, and so he tells himself that it's okay that he has to do this, that everyone probably does it, and it's not just because it's her.

(Roy is, if anything, quite adept at lying to himself.)

The tent in question is next to his own, which means it's easier for him to pretend that he only comes across it while retiring to bed. He likes to tell himself that all the time, even once he realizes that he has to check on the team before he goes to sleep, because it's so much more important to him. For the most part, she's never asleep before him and even sometimes follows him around when he does these nightly patrols. Every once in a while, she leaves for her cot before he does, and it's on those nights when he definitely needs to check on her.

It's embarrassing, but he panics sometimes when he can't find her. He did that first night she went to sleep before he did, trying his damnedest not to bustle around the camp but failing miserably. It was only when Havoc pointed out that he'd seen her walk into her tent that Roy was able to shove the panic into the recesses of his mind and coolly explain that that wasn't what he was worried about. But for a wild second, he pictured her injured, dying somewhere, without him. He was being stupid. He knows that, can't do a damned thing about it, and so this is what he does.

When Roy nudges the flap of her tent open slightly to peer in, he breathes out a quiet sigh of relief. There is Riza, sleeping soundly on her cot, with Black Hayate curled on top of the blanket at her feet. The dog lifts his head up curiously and Roy puts a finger to his mouth to single for him to stay quiet. As if understanding why Roy is here, Black Hayate lays his head back down. All the Ishval kids love the black and white furball. He's still blown away by the small smile Riza allows whenever she watches the children play with her dog.

The days are long and the work is longer, but Riza never complains either. She's at his side, dutiful as ever, but he notices her even more now than he did before, which he didn't think was possible. Every time he catches her sight of her, his eyes are dragged towards her. She looks similar to what she did when she was here the first time, her hair cut short once again and growing slowly. If she doesn't cut it soon, she'll start to get that awkward bedroom hair that the team used to tease her for. Her smiles are more hidden, her eyes a little more haunted by the landscape, but the times that they are alone together are filled with a warmth that feels both old and new.

Their fingers touch a little more. She stands closer. His hand lingers on her arm a little longer when he halts her. She fixes the lapels of his jacket. He sits next to her when they eat instead of across from her. They're such little things, possibly to the point that nobody else notices, but he can't help but pick them out. There's barely a foot in between their tents and the material is flimsy at best, but he wants her closer, needs her closer. He can still remember the way she felt in his arms. It feels like it was yesterday and both years ago.

"Sir? Did you need something?"

Roy blinks when he realizes that he's been staring into her tent. Somehow, Riza must've sensed someone watching and she woke up. Her voice is thick with grogginess, but her eyes are on him, alertness slowly returning to her, and she doesn't look fazed whatsoever.

"I, ah, no, I was just making sure that you were…" Roy doesn't really know what to say now that he's been caught in the act. He probably looks like a creep, her waking up to find him staring at her. His cheeks begin to burn red with embarrassment as he tries to come up with some sort of explanation, anything that didn't have to do with him being weird and inappropriate or scared to sleep without seeing her first. There was no way that he could say that he wanted her to be the last thing he saw before falling asleep.

"It's okay," Riza says, smiling at him. "I understand."

Visibly deflating with relief, Roy nods his head. Of course she knows. She's his guardian and has been watching his back for years. Of course she would know what it feels like to need to know the person you've been charged to protect is safe before being able to find peace.

"After I was moved to work under Bradley, I used to take the long way home so that I could drive by your house whenever I worked late," Riza admits quietly, lying her head back down on her pillow. Roy stares at her, a little in disbelief at how he found someone that was so resolute in their promise to protect him. "You were nearly always awake, of course, but just seeing the lights on helped me breathe. It was the only way I could sleep sometimes."

"Well, you can see me now, and I'm just fine." He tells her that as much as he tells himself.

Riza gives a short, gentle laugh. "I can rest easy now. Thank you, sir."

Roy can't tell her how much it means to him to see her with him now. He can't even begin to describe it himself. All he knows is that after he retires to his own tent, strips down, and slides into his cot, he can finally relax. It's only natural that is cot is on the right of his tent whereas hers is on the left. He folds his hands behind his head and looks up. The work here is grueling, but worth it and one step further into his goals. Maybe after he leaves here, he can learn to dream a little more boldly.


	59. Gift

**Author's Notes:** Curses for the site not working yesterday. **ssadropout** , I've often wondered why there isn't more about Isvhal myself, if only because I feel like it's such an important thing. There was that small OVA about Roy and Hughes, but that's it. And thank you, **Lin** , these two idiots will go way out of the way for each other, and it's ridiculous.

As for this drabble, it's a special one. It's the first time I've actually connected two drabbles together. This is a continuation of the **soulmate tattoo AU**. It's a companion piece/prequel to Chapter 37 ("Match"). Because it's a prequel though, it's not necessary to read the other one to understand this one. I wanted to make sure that it was capable of standing on its own. This one is focused on Roy. There will be another one later on, already written, that is focused on Riza. I'm terribly fond of soulmate tattoo AUs.

* * *

 _59\. Gift_

* * *

It was supposed to be a day unlike any other, shortly after he turned ten, when Roy woke up to a searing pain on his lower left abdomen. Roy jerked around in his bed, caught in the sheets and a strangled shout caught in his throat. The burning pain stopped as quickly as it began, leaving a light throb, and he halted in his struggle. He knew what it was now that he was awake, but he was hesitant to do anything about it. After all, he'd heard the stories about these sorts of marks; he just hadn't known if he was going to get one or not.

Roy lay in bed until he heard the other habitants of the house stirring. Slowly, he made his way about getting ready, tugging his shirt down every time it threatened to rise up. He took a shower awkwardly, not looking down at himself as he washed his body and keeping his eyes either forward or up. When he got out, he made sure to angle his body away from the mirror in the bathroom. He even closed his eyes when he put on his clothes. It definitely caused him to struggle more, but he didn't care.

For some reason, Roy couldn't bear the idea of looking down at the words of his soulmate that he knew was tattooed on his body now.

He ate his breakfast in silence, his aunt's girls bustling about him loudly. He tried to keep to himself for the most part, digging into his cereal, but he could feel his Aunt Chris' eyes on him. How she could possibly know what had happened was beyond him, but he wouldn't put anything past her. After four years of living under her roof, he'd learned firsthand that there was no such thing as hiding anything from his aunt turned foster mother.

"What's up with you, Roy-boy?" Aunt Chris finally asked. She was sat at the table across from him, giving him the look of a shrewd businesswoman. His aunt was by no means a warm, touching mother, but she'd taken him in after his parents died, having spent months tracking him down in the system, and she was protective of him in her own way. "You haven't been this quiet in a long time."

Roy painfully swallowed his cereal. "Not feeling well." It wasn't exactly the truth, but it wasn't a lie either. He didn't feel well. His stomach felt all out of sorts, flopping at the mere thought of the soulmate mark, and it still burned. Subconsciously, as he sat under her gaze, he scratched at his abdomen.

The movement caught her attention. "What's that there?"

"Nothing," Roy said quickly. "A bug bite."

"Oh? Is it nothing or a bug bite?" his aunt asked. When Roy didn't respond and blinked back at her, she let out a sigh and stood up from her chair, walking over to him. She waved a hand at him. "Let's see it then."

Roy hesitated at first, giving her something of a fearful look. Aunt Chris gave him the softest look that she could manage, though it still seemed to have an edge. Her soulmate mark was faded after her husband's death years ago. Most of the girls that worked for her either didn't have one at all or didn't have one yet. A part of him strangely felt guilty for having a soulmate mark now, like he was afraid that his makeshift family would be upset with him.

After his aunt's look turned expectant, Roy set his spoon down and gingerly lifted up the side of his shirt. His aunt leaned down to examine the mark while he stared at the clock on the other side of the wall.

"Hm." Aunt Chris stood back up straight and Roy dropped his shirt. "Have you seen it yet?" He shook his head. All of the words felt like they'd been taken right out of his mouth. His aunt was right in pointing out that he was never went so long without speaking, but he didn't know if he could. "Do you want to know what it says?"

At this, Roy licked his lips, but then nodded his head slowly.

"It says, ' _If you could please follow me to your room, Mister Mustang'_."

Roy blinked. It was painfully boring, as far as soulmate tattoo marks went, but his brain jumped anyways. "Am I supposed to fall in love with a bellhop?" he burst out, which only managed to make his aunt guffaw. That was the only thing that he could think of, someone showing him to his room in a hotel. That meant that he probably wouldn't meet his soulmate for a very long time, especially if that person was going to call him Mister Mustang. He wrinkled his nose. The name made him think of his father. He was going to make sure that no one called him that. It was ridiculous.

A little over three years later, the thought of the soulmate tattoo far from his mind, Roy finds himself standing on the doorstep of the Hawkeye Estate, demanding to be taken on as an alchemy apprentice. He's learned a great many of things from being raised by Madam Christmas, the art of persuasion being only one of him. Despite the fact that Berthold Hawkeye outright refuses at first, somehow or another, whether because of his presence or his refusal to give up, the alchemist acquiesces and Roy is taken in to yet another person's household.

His new teacher rattles off a few rules, more to surely follow, and then leaves Roy alone in the parlor, unsure of what he's supposed to do. Already he can tell that Master Hawkeye is going to be a strange teacher, but he knows the rumors about the man's research on a special type of alchemy and it sparks a fire in Roy's mind that can't be tamed until he learns more.

He's standing in the room awkwardly, suitcase still in hand, when a blonde-haired girl steps into the dark room. Her hair is cut short, a little longer than most boys, tossed about like she's been busy working and her cheeks hold a light pink tinge to them. The outfit she's wearing looks like a school uniform, a simple white blouse with a navy blue tie and matching skirt that stops just above her knees. She's younger than him, but maybe only by a few years. Most importantly, she looks as if she'd rather do anything in the world than deal with her father's new apprentice, but does her best to hide it with a painted on smile.

It's only when she says the words – "If you could please follow me to your room, Mister Mustang" – that Roy starts with a jolt and begins to gawk at her outright. She doesn't seem to notice the shock on his face and turns on her heels, starting up the stairs. It takes everything in his power to follow her and he nearly trips over a few of the steps because he's too busy staring at her to watch where he's going.

It's her? She's his soulmate? Roy runs his fingers through his hair. She's so young. He's young, if he's being honest with himself. He's only thirteen years-old. And he's met his soulmate already? He tries to remember any stories about people finding their soulmates at such a young age, but most of the time, those stories involved the tattoos showing up years later when they were older and more mature. He's thirteen and there isn't any room beyond alchemy in his mind, much less his soulmate.

"This is your room. The study is downstairs to the right, the kitchen is on the left. Breakfast will be ready at seven. I'm to cook, so you won't have to worry about that." His teacher's daughter turns to face him and gives him a careful look over that reminds him strangely of his aunt. It's the type of look that says she misses nothing. He'll have to be careful around her for sure. "If you need anything else, Mister Mustang, I'll be in the study. I'm Riza, by the way."

Suddenly, it occurs to Roy that he hasn't spoken a single word, so she wouldn't know why he's acting so odd, but he finds himself almost too nervous to speak. How will she react to the knowledge that he's her soulmate? His aunt told him that he shouldn't be so scared about his soulmate tattoo mark – that it was a gift – but now that he's met his soulmate, he isn't so sure about that.

"Roy," he nearly cries out in a panic. Riza raises her eyebrows at him in surprise. "Call me 'Roy', I mean, not 'Mister Mustang'."

He has to breathe through his nose to get any air in. What was he thinking? Had he even been thinking? This girl was going to have his name tattooed on her skin. Couldn't he have said something cleverer? Anything besides what he'd exclaimed would have been better.

Instead of shock or glee or horror or anything that he could imagine her reacting with, Riza merely gives him something of a confused and uncomfortable look. "My father said to call you 'Mister Mustang'," she simply points out.

And then it hits him. She doesn't have her soulmate tattoo mark yet. Almost all of the time, people get their soulmate marks at the same time. They could be thousands of miles apart, but their skin would burn and tingle with their soulmate's first words to them simultaneously. There are a few stories about people getting them at different times, so that one person knew before the other, but it's extremely rare. Roy forces himself to take a deep breath. It would appear as if they are one of those rare cases.

Roy knows in his bones that Riza is his soulmate, but she has no clue yet. It makes him feel a little better, but terrifies him at the same time. One of these days, those brown eyes of hers are going to widen and she will never be able to look at him the same again. He doesn't know her and she has no idea what she will mean to him, but he knows that this unassuming girl will one day mean the world to him. It feels lot more like a burden than a gift.


	60. At the Window

**Author's Notes:** Thanks so much for the follows and favorites! Here's some sweet young Royai, a small weakness of mine.

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 _60\. At the Window_

* * *

The fact that he studied at the Hawkeye Estate gave Roy plenty of time to do things on his own.

He woke up early in the morning so that he could eat breakfast with Riza, a routine that had come about a nearly a year ago after both of them had seemingly worked up the courage to sit and eat together. She used to rush through her meal or not even finish it whenever he clambered down the stairs, but with some convincing, she started to stay and it had become his favorite way to start the morning. He liked waking up at the table with her, talking about their plans for the day or maybe going over her studies.

After that, she walked to the village where she went to school and he went to the study. Sometimes, Master Hawkeye was there to give a lesson or a test; sometimes he tossed some reading material at Roy and told him to practice; other times, he was nowhere to be found, either asleep in his office, bedroom, or out of town with no notice. He spent most of the day locked up in the room doing his work, but his attention would wane after a few hours. With Riza at school, he was left to his own devices when it came to lunch unless there were leftovers, which she sometimes made specifically for him. When the afternoon came around, his mind would begin to drift as he wondered when his companion would be coming home.

Today was an unnaturally warm day for spring, so Roy set about doing his studies in the kitchen. It was cooler whereas the study was quite stuffy. It would only get worse during the summer, but then Master Hawkeye insisted on him studying in there so that Riza could do her homework out here. He liked to keep them separated as much as possible, though they'd worked their way around it without him knowing. Teenagers were good at being sneaky and Roy had learned very well how to be sneaky being raised by Madam Christmas.

As he practiced drawing different transmutation circles, Roy's thoughts began to drift again and his eyes were drawn to the window next to him. He looked outside, taking in the green expanse of the countryside and the growing weeds and grass of the front yard. Something would have to be done about that soon. Master Hawkeye would just let it grow wild, leaving most of the work to his daughter, but just as he'd done last year, Roy would step up to the plate to help her.

After glancing back at the clock on the wall, he looked out at the path, straining to see a figure somewhere, but saw nothing. Perhaps she'd been held back at school for some reason. He rather missed the winter days when he'd traipsed his way through the snow to the school and wait for her so that he could walk back with her. Roy hated the snow and had his entire life, but he'd liked walking through the snowy scenery with her. If he worked hard enough, he could start getting a break and do that again. It'd be much nicer to walk around now that it was actually warm and sunny.

Roy tapped his pencil on the table as he gathered his thoughts again. His mind had been drifting an awful lot to his teacher's daughter lately, but he supposed it had to do with the fact that they were cooped up in the house away from everyone else for the most part. Besides his teacher, she was the only other person he had consistent contact with. He called his family back in Central almost every other day and he went to the village to gather supplies, so everyone knew him, but Riza was the only person he saw every day. She'd become a natural part of his life as anything else.

Strange how that had happened without him even realizing it.

Just as he was getting back to his work, Roy caught glimpse of something out the window – someone walking down the path towards the house. He looked out the window again and grinned to himself. It was Riza, bobbing her head to something that was probably humming and practically skipping. Homework all but forgotten, he dropped the pencil and darted out of the room as fast as could be. His teacher was locked in his study and had been for hours, so he wouldn't notice that Roy took a small break.

In a matter of seconds, Roy was out the door and rushing to meet her, bounding through the gate, though he couldn't really understand why he was so excited to see her when he saw her every day. He felt himself itching for her to come home every time she went to school, most likely out of boredom and because he hated being alone, but it felt more than that too. He liked being around her.

Just as he was about to meet her, Roy waved a greeting at her and began to say her name when Riza practically launched herself at him. Not expecting the attack, he yelped and fell backwards, both of them falling to the ground. He took the brunt of it, nearly knocking the wind out of him, as Riza landed on top of him. Before he could even begin to question what was going on, she began to laugh. Roy blinked. This was beyond strange. Riza very rarely initiated physical contact, trying to remain as proper as possible despite their close friendship, and she was pretty reserved too even with him.

Now she was laughing and lying on top of him. She was light enough to where that it wasn't uncomfortable, but he was still confused as hell.

"Well, judging from your laughing, I'm assuming that you're in a good mood?" Roy asked teasingly.

When Riza smiled, it was a little shyer this time around, even though she was still on top of him. "A great mood." She seemed to realize herself, blushing a little, and pulled herself off of him so that she was sitting on the ground. He pushed himself up, leaning on his elbows. She was quite pretty when she blushed. "I received a letter from the dean today. Highest marks in the class!"

Roy let out a low, impressed whistle. Her school wasn't nearly as large as the one he went to back in Central, but he was still proud of her and he could tell how excited she was. He realized with a pang that her father probably wouldn't care. Normally letters like that were given to the parents, but Berthold Hawkeye never once attended any of the events or conferences at his daughter's school on her behalf. She knew that as well, most like, but was refusing to let it get her down.

"I just– I was so excited and couldn't wait to share the news with someone," Riza said in an attempt to explain why she'd thrown herself at him.

"So you tackled me?"

"It was a hug!" Riza insisted, blushing even more furiously. He smirked at her, which made her reach out to smack him on the arm, but he rolled away from her and laughed. She looked torn between whether she wanted to for real tackle him or let him be since that wouldn't be proper. Instead, she settled for biting her lip. "And I wanted to thank you."

This caused Roy to stop laughing and sit up straight again. "Thank me? For what? You got the marks, not me. According to your father, I'm an abysmal student."

Riza shrugged her shoulders. "You helped me study every morning when I had a test and helped explain things to me when I didn't understand them." True, he helped her whenever he could or whenever she needed it, but for the most part, she was smart on her own. She did all the work. He may have helped her connect the dots here and there, but she didn't really need his help in the end. If anything, she was the one that helped him keep on track with his studies whenever he started to slack. "And, well… I thought that you might actually care…"

Ah, so she did know how her father would react – or rather, not react. Roy felt a stab of shame in his chest, even though he knew that it wasn't his fault. Whenever he did something right or made a leap that paid off in his alchemy training, his teacher would always commend him, but it was like Riza's own studies didn't matter simply because they weren't related to alchemy. And his aunt may have been gruff, but she always showcased her pride in him whenever he did something and his sisters would coo over and congratulate him. Had Riza ever had someone else to simply praise her for accomplishing something?

"I say we celebrate this occasion," Roy decided.

Riza blinked. "Celebrate?"

"With cake!"

"Roy, you can't bake," Riza deadpanned. "You nearly burnt the kitchen down in your last attempt."

Well, she wasn't wrong there. Roy gave her a sheepish grin. "Then we'll go into town tonight and I'll buy you one. This deserves a proper celebration."

"Oh, you don't have to do that," Riza said, turning in on herself. Apparently, she didn't know how to handle someone simply doing something nice for her because she deserved it. His heart really went out for the girl and made him want to do this for her that much more. "You don't have to spend any money on me."

"Well, I want to," Roy told her. Despite the size of the estate, she and her father didn't have that much money to speak of. His teacher got money from helping out the townsfolk with his alchemy, among other random bits of money for research here and there and some old inheritance money, but besides that, they were fairly poor. It was a far cry from his life back in Central, but something he'd come to know during the time in between his parents' death and when he'd been adopted by his aunt. "I've been sitting on some money that my foster mom in Central sent me."

Roy watched as Riza's face slowly changed from wary embarrassment to soft gratefulness. She smiled at him again, ever so prettily, and then nodded her head. He didn't care what he had to do in order to get Master Hawkeye to allow him time to go into town; he'd do anything if it meant seeing that beaming smile and hearing her laugh without a care in the world again.


	61. Diary - Journal

**Author's Notes:** Thanks for reading! This is based off of the best episode of the 2003 FMA, "The Flame Alchemist," though set later on. I cracked up so much during that episode. It was too good.

* * *

 _61\. Diary/Journal_

* * *

Jean Havoc did not appreciate being used by his superiors like some sort of dog. That was what State Alchemists were for, weren't they? Regardless, when he'd been given an assignment by someone even higher up than the Colonel to report on said Colonel, he couldn't exactly say no. What was he supposed to do? Throw their order back in their face, proclaim his loyalty to Colonel Mustang, and then get court-marshaled? On top of all of that, he wasn't supposed to let the Colonel know what he was doing, which meant that First Lieutenant Hawkeye couldn't find out either.

Hiding things from Mustang was one thing, but hiding them from a person whose nickname was literally The Hawk's Eye was fairly impossible.

However, he'd done it once before, so he could do it again. Maybe. The first time he'd been lucky, considering that he'd been so overwhelmed…by the job. Perhaps because he'd been so…emotionally invested in the job itself, Hawkeye had dismissed what he and the rest of the team were doing. She, after all, didn't join in on any of their frivolities.

Still, if he wanted the best intel on the Colonel, involving Hawkeye would've been the best route. The higher ups had suggested as such, but Havoc threw that idea out the window immediately. The rest of the team was loyal to the Colonel, having served under his command for years and treated well (minus the stolen girlfriend here and there), but no one could touch the unwavering loyalty that Hawkeye had. She put the rest of the military to shame in that respect. She could've opened up an entire world of information on Mustang, but she probably would have shot them all afterwards.

It was also probably that reason why the higher ups came to Havoc instead of her.

Havoc, of course, didn't enjoy this one bit. He liked Mustang. After recruiting Hawkeye, he had been the next one to come onto Mustang's ragtag crew and he'd found a family in it that he hadn't expected of the military. Sure, at the end of the day, Colonel Mustang was his superior officer, but somewhere in between, he was also a friend, a comrade, and something of a brother. Had the two of them been of the same rank, there would've been an even greater show of friendship. They got along well and understood each other both at work and outside of it. Havoc respected the hell of him. He loathed going behind the man's back like this.

But an order was an order and soldiers were made to follow orders, so that was exactly what Havoc did.

It wasn't the greatest report by any means. He disliked writing up missions reports almost as much Mustang did, but either Hawkeye or Falman made sure to clean them up before passing them along. This time, he didn't have either of them behind him to help him with this. Last time, he'd involved the rest of the guys on the team, but this time around, he'd been given strict orders not to involve anyone else, most likely because the guys had ended up ganging on each other and torturing one another with pointless info.

Havoc merely kept a journal in his desk, taking notes here and there whenever something struck his fancy. By no means was he going to tell everything to these lame higher ups – if he could stick it to them in any way for trying to meddle with the Colonel, he was going to do it – but he had to give them something.

Luckily for everyone except the ones giving the orders, Mustang was pretty tame for the next few weeks. Havoc took note of when Mustang avoided his paperwork, his surprising skills on the gun range (though, he noted, nowhere near his and Hawkeye's), his penchant for lame puns that he thought were clever, the wild amount of work that seemed to get done in the last hour of the day, and so forth. When Fullmetal came in for a debriefing, Havoc wrote how long it took before the younger alchemist exploded into a fit of rage, but also how quick he was to snap at another Colonel for insinuating that Ed would be better under someone else's command.

The unit was a tight team. Edward Elric and his brother might've been on the fringe, but he was still a part of it. Unlike how the military was with him, Mustang did not keep a tight leash on the Fullmetal Alchemist, not nearly as tight as the brass wanted at least. He pulled on it when someone pulled on his, but only when there was nothing that he couldn't do about it. Havoc considered his notes on that detail. The Colonel certainly wouldn't like anyone insinuating that he cared about Ed as more than a subordinate and Fullmetal would jump to point out how much of a bastard his commanding officer was, but the facts were there.

What Havoc definitely did not report on, however, was the Colonel's relationship with the First Lieutenant.

Anyone on the team could've pointed out the difference between their connection with their superior officer and hers. Theirs was deeper, forged years ago during a time that none of them had a clue about. Hawkeye had let a little slip one time during Hughes' birthday, having drunk a little more than usual, but then she'd sealed her lips and glared at Havoc to let him know that he was not to repeat anything she said. She hadn't had to glare at him to know that. The Colonel might've flaunted his personal life, to the detriment of every male officer, but Hawkeye was extremely private and he respected her to keep it that way.

There really wasn't anything to take note of when it came to Hawkeye and Mustang. They were excruciatingly professional with one another. For the most part, they referred to one another by their ranks. Even Mustang called most of them by their surnames when they weren't in formal situations or out on the field. They were never inappropriate with one another. If any physical contact was initiated, it was generally by Mustang, but it was just a hand on her arm to still her. All she had to do was look at him to convey anything.

Perhaps it was that silent communication that tipped Havoc off at first. Hawkeye was unreadable at best. Breda was the best poker player of them by far, but the times Hawkeye had joined in on their games, even he had been sweating bullets under her gaze. Reading her was like reading something in a foreign language, maybe even a dead language. But then Mustang seemed to understand her. With just a flicker of her eyes, Mustang could change tactics completely and get what he wanted from someone, as if he knew all along. Havoc couldn't help but be amazed at how well Mustang could understand what a simple posture from her meant. There were at times when he seemed to be at a loss as well, of course, but Hawkeye could read him like a book.

What Havoc really saw though where the looks that they gave one another when no one else in the room was noticing. As Hawkeye was hard at work, Mustang would look at her from out his office, eyes resolute and hard, but he'd grip his hands tightly on his desk before taking a deep breath and turning to the task at hand. And when Mustang was angry or having a hard time with something, Havoc would catch the soft look in Hawkeye's eyes, something that threw him off guard the first time he noticed it. This was a woman that could cut a man with the right glare and there she was, looking at Mustang like she wanted to protect him, but not in the guns blazing sort of way that he was used to from her.

Havoc would watch out of the corner of his eyes as paperwork was passed between them, how their fingers brushed against one another's and they'd halt for a second. He saw when they all went out how Mustang would both put himself next to Hawkeye and then pull himself away from her, how she smiled gently and then turn her face as the smile faltered. It was enough to make a man want to dump out his beer.

They put on a damn good farce, and that was something that did not go down in the journal. Whether the people that ordered him were disappointed in his report or not, Havoc didn't care. He didn't get where he was today by being a complete idiot. And he knew what they needed to see and what they didn't. Whatever was between the Colonel and the First Lieutenant was theirs and theirs alone, not anyone else's, and once the report was in, Havoc turned a blind eye to it as well again.


	62. A Reason to Quarrel

**Author's Notes:** I've been working on this for ages. I actually started writing this before I started this drabble series. It was meant to be one of those imagine your OTP fics where Person A takes care of Person B while they're sick, and then it evolved into also your OTP arguing then one of them shouting, "I love you!" and well, yeah, it took a life of its own. I mainly struggled to write Riza arguing as she's such a damn good subordinate. But when I finally buckled down and finished it, I realized that my next prompt was this one and it fit, so I cheated. Thanks for reading and the follows/favorites!

* * *

 _62\. A Reason to Quarrel_

* * *

It had been an absolutely horrendous week at the office. Everything that could possibly go wrong went wrong. Paperwork had been lost; Grumman ( _President_ Grumman) had decided to dump every little problem on top of his desk; he'd gotten into an argument with General Armstrong (as usual); and it was raining like mad outside. To top it all off, Hawkeye had been out sick for an unprecedented three days, which meant that the entire office was a hazy, unfocused mess.

And it wasn't like this day was any worse or any of his subordinates' faults. But Fuery had spilled his coffee on Roy's pants, which normally would've been fixed by Hawkeye conveniently having a spare change of clothes hidden somewhere, but instead, he'd had to attempt to warm his pants up with his alchemy. That…hadn't exactly worked. Then it turned out that Falman had accidentally eaten his lunch, but he couldn't eat Falman's because he was allergic to some of the ingredients, and he was not about to eat at the cafeteria. Plus, Havoc's two day attempt to quit smoking was driving them all mad.

And so that was how Roy Mustang found himself slumped back in his chair and arms folded across his chest, glowering at his subordinates.

Fuery coughed. Falman glanced at the clock. Breda kept his head down. Havoc tapped his pencil for the millionth time.

Roy jumped to his feet. "I'm leaving."

Havoc looked up. "Does that mean…?"

"Do whatever you think is best," Roy snapped. He didn't really mean to snap at his team – he wasn't particularly mad at them – but he just couldn't be around them anymore.

Throwing his coat on as he walked out the door, he spared none of them an apologetic glance, though he'd feel the guilt later. All he wanted to do was go home, hide out, and recover from whatever hell this week had been and hope tomorrow was somehow better. He couldn't help but scowl once he opened the door and found it still pouring. Pulling his coat over his head to hide from the rain, he ran to his car and sulked inside of it for at least five minutes before heading home.

Once he was home, Roy didn't leave his house for the entire night.

The next day, Roy knew what he had to do in order to ensure that this awful week came to an end. He got ready for work earlier than normal and drove directly to Hawkeye's apartment. "Lieutenant?" He knocked on the door and leaned in close, but could only hear Black Hayate scratching on the front door. That was odd. Hawkeye never let Black Hayate do something like that. "Lieutenant, are you there?" Well the light was on, so she had to be here. She never went on a run without her dog.

Finally, there was some mumbling from inside and the scratching stopped; and then the door opened to reveal his Lieutenant.

Hawkeye looked as if she'd been hit by a bus. Her hair was in a tangled, sideways ponytail, a much duller blonde than normal, dark circles under her eyes, shoulders slumped, her uniform halfway on. She looked as if she hadn't slept in the days she'd not been at work. "Sir," she mumbled, her eyes darting down, stepping back to let him inside and shut the door behind him. Within that one second, everything he'd been thinking was shot down the drain and he knew what he had to do.

"Hawkeye…" Roy stopped to look at her more carefully. "Don't tell me you're coming in to work today."

She tugged on her uniform, trying to straighten her jacket, but it was a little impossible since she'd buttoned it up improperly. "Sir, I've been out for three days. I can't afford to be gone a fourth."

"And I can't afford you to get the entire office sick," Roy countered. "You're not coming in today or tomorrow."

It looked as if Hawkeye had been struck in the face. "I can't do that. Being out an entire week is absurd. There is so much work that needs to be done. The office…the amount of disarray it's probably fallen into…"

"Oh, hey now, give us some credit," Roy said, feeling slightly offended. Except that it was completely true. The office had fallen into disarray without her there to help guide them. They got work done, but it wasn't exactly the most organized or productive.

"I'm coming into work," Hawkeye stated, standing up straight and looking him dead in the eye, almost sounding like her regular resolute self – and then she stumbled and nearly fell into the wall. The only reason she didn't fall flat on her face was because Roy leapt forward and grabbed her by the arms.

When she looked up at him, there was almost shame in her eyes. Roy sighed. She was so stubborn and prideful. The last time he'd seen her look this bad, she'd been bleeding out of a wound from her neck. (The was one of the last things he remembered seeing before his eyesight had been taken away from him for a period of time on that fateful day.) He forced himself to soften and steel himself at the same time. There was only one way to negotiate with a woman of this caliber.

"Listen, I know you're concerned about not holding up our end of our deal," Roy told her, leaning slightly forward to look her in the eyes, "but you've done more than enough. You need the rest. I'd rather have your best work than your half-assed, sick work." He smiled crookedly at her. "C'mon, lay down. I'll make you some soup or something. Sick people like soup, right?"

Hawkeye jerked herself out of his grip, nearly stumbling again, and then meandered over to her couch where she collapsed. Black Hayate jumped onto the couch with her, snuggling up against her and whimpering, as if he knew she was sick but also knew he could do nothing to help her. "I don't need your help," she mumbled, refusing to look at him. "Now that you've sentenced me to home confinement–"

"Well that's a little dramatic," Roy huffed.

"You can leave. I'm fine."

Roy folded his arms across his chest. "You know, you don't have to do everything on your own, right?"

"I don't need you to take care of me, General," Hawkeye practically bit out.

"Then don't think of it as me taking care of you," Roy replied. "I'm trying to _help_ you."

Hawkeye rolled her eyes. "That's a first."

At first, Roy wasn't quite sure he heard what he did. He tilted his head towards her, as if that would help him hear what she'd said in the past, and then gave her a rather offended look. "Excuse me?" Hawkeye didn't respond, wouldn't even look at him, so he stepped closer to her. "I don't think I heard you correctly because I have damn well helped you before."

"Yes, sir. I misspoke."

That just irritated him even further. She was closing in on herself, just like she always did. She never let anyone in anymore, not even him. After the Promised Day, he'd thought that maybe they could be more honest with each other, more open, just as he'd secretly hoped for so many years, but instead she'd shut him out even further. It had wounded him more than he liked to admit. But now he was more than a little bothered.

"No, I don't think you misspoke," Roy said, advancing on her. "I think you don't remember – or you don't want to remember. Do you recall what I did for you in the Ishval desert? Because I can assure you: I do. And I didn't want to, but you asked me – you pleaded with me – and I still have nightmares about your screams. I still wonder if I could've carried you faster to the medical tent. I still wish that I'd never agreed to take your father's alchemy from you after his funeral. But you asked for my help, and I gave it."

"I remember." Hawkeye looked down at her hands, a hint of shame in her eyes. "Of course I remember." She took a deep breath. "And that is why I don't need your help anymore. I've already asked too much of you."

Now she was giving him exactly what he wanted – but that only frustrated him even further for some reason. Roy groaned and threw his hands up in the air, like he was done with her, but he couldn't be done with her. This was the problem with Riza Hawkeye. She was such a damn good subordinate. She knew him in and out, knew what he needed, knew what he wanted, and so she was able to manipulate him in ways he usually didn't notice. Except sometimes he did and it bothered him. It was like she was on autopilot with him at times, and he didn't want that. He missed the times when their interactions seemed effortless and natural, not automatic and mechanical.

"You're absolutely impossible."

Hawkeye gave him an almost confused look. "I don't know what you want me to say, sir."

"First, stop calling me 'sir'."

"Fine, General." She did that on purpose. It was something she did when they were children whenever he asked her not to call him 'Mister' or anything like that. Even now that they were adults, they were stuck with titles to call each other by.

"And definitely don't call me 'General'."

"Anything else?" Hawkeye asked him, sounding suspiciously sarcastic. He could hear the 'sir' tacked on at the end even though she didn't say the word. "Or are you done playing the hero?"

Roy narrowed his eyes at her. "Can you just let me be here for you for once? As more than your boss? As your friend?"

"So you didn't originally come here to convince me to come back to work?" Hawkeye raised an eyebrow. This caused Roy to halt, just for a second, but it was enough for even a sick Hawkeye to catch him. Nearly nothing escaped her. He'd rather hoped that her being so sick would cause her to not be so sharp. She lowered her head, looking more wounded than angry. "Of course. You can leave now."

Roy rubbed his mouth. He'd been an idiot and one hell of a jerk, but he couldn't back down now. He didn't want her to feel this way. "I'm not leaving." She didn't look up at him. "I was being selfish and I am truly sorry about that, but I know—"

"No, you don't know," Hawkeye interrupted, standing up suddenly. It was too quick and she almost fell again, but she practically shoved him away from her when he went to help her. "Stop it! Just leave, please."

"I'm not leaving until I know you're okay – or you're at least in bed," Roy snapped back. "You're going to run yourself ragged at this rate."

"Well, your magical visit cured me. Hurrah. I'm fine. You can leave now."

Roy blinked back in surprise at her viciousness. "You are not fine. You're far from fine. You look like hell."

Hawkeye scoffed. "You sure know how to compliment a lady. No wonder you get all those dates." Before he could even respond to that remark, which sounded bitter than anything else, she waved a hand in the air. "I don't care. Make me a soup, tuck me into bed, read me a story – do whatever you have to do to fulfill your hero complex, so you'll leave me alone."

"I'm not trying to fulfill some complex!" Roy shouted. "I'm worried about you! I love you, for God's sake!"

Silence fell over the room, smothering the both of them, as they stared back at one another. Hawkeye wavered in her stance and the urge to help her swelled in his chest, but she'd pushed him away the last time. Even worse, he didn't know if he could move even if he wanted to. His proclamation settled over them in a slow, horrified manner, time ticking by both slowly and far too fast.

But he did love her though. He'd loved her for years.

His precious subordinate. His precious woman. He could've sneered at those words used against him, like the homunculi and such knew exactly what she meant to him, like he had known the extant as well. She had been precious to him since they were teenagers, laughing and bright, unaware of what the future held for them. And he had known that he cared for her as more than a superior officer cared for his subordinate. He was fonder of her than any person should be of his adjutant. But he always tacked on the fact that he'd known her for so many years as an excuse.

Then she'd nearly died and she alone convinced him to hold himself back from human transmutation, and he'd realized right then and there that he loved her. Resolutely. With everything in his soul.

But it was one thing to know that and another to know that he could do nothing about it, especially as he watched her pull away from him in an attempt to remain professional. Something had changed between them during that time, something he couldn't ignore or fight, and so she'd done the only thing she could do to protect him. She'd stepped back from him. She had done what he couldn't do, even now.

Roy placed his face in his hands. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have…" This was normally where she stepped in. If he started to cross the line between them, she stepped back, apologized even when he was at fault, and then they moved on. But he couldn't do that anymore. Gods, he didn't want to fight it anymore.

"You shouldn't say things like that, sir," Riza said in a quiet voice, looking down at the floor. "It's dangerous."

"It's true," Roy countered, pulling his hands away. He'd seen Truth, hadn't he? And when he'd been dragged through his gate and every bit of the world had been buried into his mind, she had been the last thing he'd seen. She had been in everything. Holding her hand out to him, smiling at him, so loving and knowledgeable. She was the truth now. "I love you. I've loved you for years and didn't even know it. I almost witnessed you die without telling you that. How can you stand to follow a coward like me?"

"You're not a coward," Riza snapped, and this time, when she faltered, she didn't shove him away when he moved to help her. She placed a hand on his arm to steady herself, leaning into him. How had he ever thought to convince her to come to work today? This was supposed to have been a simple visit. And now, here he was, laying himself bear to her. He was such a selfish idiot. "You're the strongest man I know. And sometimes… Sometimes being strong means being able to ignore what you want for the greater good of others. I've always admired that about you."

Roy smiled wryly. "Admired."

When Riza looked up at him, even through her sickness, he saw a gentleness that only he seemed to know that she was capable of. "Loved. I've always loved that about you."

Truly it was regretful that she was sick because all he wanted to do was kiss her in this moment. Her grandfather certainly would have approved, and he was the one in control of everything, including the fraternization laws. Instead, he leaned his forehead against hers, noting how hot and sweaty she was. It didn't matter. She was still the most beautiful person he'd ever seen and he still loved her.

"Will you please go back to bed?" Roy asked.

Sighing, Riza pulled away from him. "You still won't let that go."

"It's only natural that I worry about you," Roy pointed out. He worried about her twice as much since the Promised Day, though he never told her that. He'd been too careless with her. His worry about his subordinates had spiked after what had happened to Havoc in the Fifth Laboratory, but for some reason, his worries hadn't fully extended to her, as if his mind simply hadn't been able to comprehend something happening to her. Now though, he knew it was only too simple to lose her, and he was terrified about that.

Riza bit her lip and then nodded her head, allowing him to guide her back to her bedroom. "You weren't…" She closed her eyes, her shoulder slumping.

He didn't need her to finish her statement to know what she was meaning to say. Quite frankly, he felt a little insulted that she would even insinuate it, much less say it out loud. "No, I didn't say that to merely win this argument or goad you into doing anything." When she opened her eyes and looked at him, she at least had the decency to look embarrassed and slightly ashamed of herself. "Everything on this world be damned, I love you, Riza Hawkeye, and I have for quite some time. You'll have to forgive me for that, I'm afraid."

Her chest rose slowly, steadily, as she looked at him, but he could tell that she was having a difficult time breathing, and it wasn't from her being sick. He didn't need for her to say the words back to him. He'd long ago figured out that she didn't speak most of what she meant. The most important words, the things closest to her heart, she kept in her eyes and never said aloud, and so he'd learned to see her in that way. His heart warmed under her soft, open gaze. This was her way of protecting herself and him, and he could respect that.

By the time he had her changed into her pajamas and back in bed, promises of not seeing her at work for the next day days, Roy felt strangely lighter, despite the fact that he would be forced to face the office without her. It was the complete opposite of his intent upon coming here this morning, but things felt better than ever before. After all, it wasn't like he wouldn't see her in the next two days. She was his precious subordinate. He needed to come back so that he could check that she was okay. Only they had to know the truth behind his reason.


	63. Special Seat

**Author's Notes:** Thank you both to **Lin** and **Enghel**! It better have been at least decent since it took me like 5 months to write it and 61 drabbles later. Oops. Now this one is based off of a humorous text post that I found on tumblr. Oh, my smol son.

* * *

 _63\. Special Seat_

* * *

"Ugh," was all that Edward could manage as he dragged himself through Eastern Headquarters to Roy Mustang's office. If there was one thing he hated most about his title as a State Alchemist, it was doing these stupid missions reports and then turning them in to Mustang for a debriefing. Al shuffled behind him, as quietly as armor could be, and wisely said nothing to the contrary. Technically speaking, he didn't have to be here for all the fun, but he went where Ed went.

Besides, someone had to make sure that Ed didn't fly off the handle, launch himself over Mustang's desk, and clock the man in the face.

With the papers crumpled in his hands, no care for any wrinkles that might occur, Ed stopped in front of his commanding officer's door and sighed. He was tired and bruised from their journey to a small town near the border of Aurego and aggravated that it had proved fruitless once again. All he'd managed to do was find the one corrupt official there and put an end to it. That seemed to be the only thing he was capable of doing these days. If Edward didn't know any better, he would've said that Mustang was deliberately giving him these missions on purpose in order to clean up shop, but that would be giving the older man too much credit.

"Are you going in, Brother?" Al asked somewhat warily.

"Ah," Ed growled, pinching the bridge of his nose with his human fingers. "I'm not in the mood for the bastard today. I can just tell that he's going to be even more of an ass than usual because of what happened."

"You did destroy a government building…"

Ed shot his little brother a glare. "Excuse me; _you're_ the one that did most of the damage."

Al folded his arms across his chest. Though he couldn't show emotion, Ed could tell that he was trying to hide embarrassment behind righteous indignation. "Colonel Mason was using it as a dog fighting ring! What kind of cruel person does something like that? It'll take years for those poor animals to recover. He deserved it!"

 _Try telling that to the government,_ Ed thought to himself, nearly wincing. Granted, while it was true that Al had done most of the damage during the fight, Ed was the one whose transmutations finally took out half the building and ended the struggle. He could already picture Mustang throwing out ridiculous figures and sums about how much rebuilding would take.

"Let's get this over with." Steeling himself, Ed turned the knob and then opened the door by kicking it. Maybe if he started with some wind, Mustang wouldn't be able to get any traction. "Hey, Colonel Bastard, here's your stupid re– Where is everyone?"

Ed blinked at something he'd never seen before: a completely empty office. Everyone's stuff was there, including Breda's jacket, but no one else was in the room besides them. The door to Mustang's interior office was open as well, showing that there was no one in there as well. A wave of frustration rose in Edward's chest at first. The asshat of a Colonel had woke him up and told him that he needed the missions reports by noon or else he'd have to send Hawkeye by, and then he wasn't even here to receive the paperwork Ed had worked all night on?

Then, something occurred to Ed as he caught sight of Mustang's hat sitting on the corner of his desk. A grin slowly made its way onto his face, one that made Al shift nervously. Striding into Mustang's room, Edward tossed the paperwork on the desk and then picked up the man's military hat.

Al stepped in after him and, after glancing around, shut the door behind him. "Brother…"

"Watch this, Al."

Edward walked around the desk and sat down in Mustang's seat. He bounced in it a little, leaning back and forth to test it, and found it to be one of the most comfortable chairs he'd sat in. It certainly beat any of the seats on all the trains they rode around in. Plopping the military hat on top of his head, he turned the chair around so that he was facing the window. Watching his reflection in the glass, he put on his best Roy Mustang face, smoothing his expression into one of blankness yet slight smugness, lips pressed together in a bored manner, eyes sharp yet prone to wandering. He'd spent countless nights recounting that face and getting worked up about it.

"Fullmetal," Ed began in a deeper voice, putting as much mocking as he could into every word, "I send you on these missions so that you can fix problems, not create them. You're an officer of the military, a State Alchemist, not a one man demolition crew."

Ed slowly spun around in the chair. Once he was facing Al, he leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table and propping up his chin on his laced fingers. Al had put a hand to where the mouth of his armor was, though that wouldn't be able to stop him from making any noise. The chair had been too high at first, but he'd fixed that so it was the perfect height for him.

"Alchemy is about deconstruction _and_ reconstruction, but apparently you've failed to see that. The military is not here to clean up the messes that you make while on your personal goose hunt. At this rate, they're going to have to take money out of your State funds in order to pay for the damages, and I won't argue with them. The military isn't made of money, you know."

Al began to snicker despite himself. He was probably torn between telling Ed to knock it off and enjoying the show. It took everything in Ed not to grin at himself, but he wanted to stay in character for this.

Leaning back in the chair just right, Ed closed his eyes and allowed a small smirk to cross his face. It was the type of smirk that said he was better than everyone in the room, including the person that he was addressing, but he was too above making a show out of it. "Do you need a babysitter, Fullmetal? I forget how old you are since you haven't grown a bit since the last few times I've seen you. Well, it's time to grow up. I'm not here to hold your hand and quite frankly, I'm too busy for that. I've got many important things taking up my time. I don't need to add your penchant for throwing yourself headfirst into trouble. You interrupted me on a date with that last call and I had to leave the poor, beautiful woman at the restaurant. Next, you'll interrupt my nap time when I'm dreaming about the First Lieutenant, and I won't be so forgiving about that!"

"Edward?"

Just as Ed was about to launch into a winded speech about how Mustang was more skillful with women than Ed could ever be, given his child-like stature (which he most certainly did not have), and also alchemy, when a woman's voice disrupted his thoughts. He popped his eyes open and stared at Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye, who was now standing behind Al. His little brother jumped at the voice, spinning around and nearly falling backwards on the couch.

"Lieutenant Hawkeye!" Ed leaped to his feet. He nearly saluted her, but then stopped himself. The last time he'd saluted someone, it had been to also flick Mustang off. "Er…how long have you been there?"

Hawkeye smiled slightly. It wasn't cruel by any means, but it was big enough to let him know that she was amused by his antics. "I believe it was when you said that it was time to grow up."

Ed blushed furiously. He shot Al a look, silently wondering why his brother hadn't warned him that they were no longer alone in the room, but then he figured that Al probably hadn't heard Hawkeye slip in. She was decidedly sneaky and good at her job. Still, that couldn't stop him from being embarrassed as he fidgeted behind the desk under her gaze. Oh, hell, that meant she heard…

"I didn't mean to imply anything inappropriate between you and the Colonel," Ed blurted out. He didn't know what else to say though or explain his actions or why he'd said what he said. It had just seemed to make sense at the time. "I know that you would – I know that he would never – I mean, he's an ass, but you, um…"

"You're fine, Edward," Hawkeye interjected in a gentle voice.

The blush didn't leave Ed's cheeks. He cleared his throat and waved an automail hand at the desk. "Uh, the reports – the missions reports – the reports that the Colonel called about." He paused. "Where is he anyways?"

"The Colonel was called away by General Moore on short notice for a briefing," Hawkeye explained, though it wasn't much of an explanation. Still, if Ed's memory served him right, Moore was the man who was dealing with the troubles in Aurego. Troubles that Ed had just seen firsthand and dealt with, though not under the watchful eyes of a man that wanted a war. "He sent me to see if you'd arrived with your report, which you did." She smiled at him again. "You're at least a little timelier with your reports than he is."

Ed puffed up in the chest, though his cheeks were still pink. "I'll get going then. I guess I'll have to come back to debrief with him later." She nodded her head in agreement. He felt a little relieved that he wouldn't have to deal with the Colonel and also that he could leave and save a little face from the Lieutenant. Walking around the desk, he started for the door. "C'mon, Al, let's get out of here. I'm starved after working all morning."

Riza made a polite cough and held out her hand. "Edward."

"Wha–?" Ed stopped and went to scratch his head, only for his hand to bump into something. The hat. He was still wearing Mustang's military hat. He turned red again. "Oh, right." He pulled the hat off and handed it to Hawkeye, trying his best not to catch her eyes. Without looking at her, he could tell that she was laughing on the inside. "Could you…not tell him about this? The bastard will never let it go."

"Not a word," Hawkeye swore.

"Thanks." To say that Edward ran out of the office may have been an understatement. Al had to quickly say his goodbyes and apologies before shouting after him and trying to catch up. It didn't matter how fast Edward went though. He couldn't run away from his own embarrassment.


	64. The Scenery from a Car Seat

**Author's Notes:** Thank you everyone for reading and everything!

* * *

 _64\. The Scenery from a Car Seat_

* * *

After all these years, they were returning to Ishval, and Roy couldn't quite fathom it. Eight years had passed since he'd last stepped foot in that hell, and this time he was willingly going there. He could remember his time in the desert like it was yesterday, but it also came to him like a mirage, something shimmering and hazy in his mind. His time there hadn't been kind, not to anyone, and so while he'd clung to it out of guilt and the hopefulness that he could pay for his crimes somehow, his memories of Ishval took on a dream-like state.

The Ishval War of Extermination had been a nightmare for everyone involved, after all, so it only made sense that he would look back on his time there with such defense mechanisms. For the people of Ishval most likely, their memories were only too clear.

Truth be told, a part of him wanted to tuck tail and turn back around, but he squashed that small fear and buried it deep. Not only was there was no room for fear in where he was going and what he was doing, but he wasn't allowed to feel such things. Shame and humiliation perhaps, disgust with himself even more so, but those were his private thoughts. No, he had to be strong, brave, determined – and humbled, very humbled and selfless. He had to do whatever he could to repair the damages that he and the other State Alchemists caused, even if they had all been manipulated in the end.

 _"_ _Equivalent exchange,"_ he'd told Riza the night before they'd set out on the train, _"is a spiteful and unforgiving concept."_

Roy had worn his military titles for so long that it was difficult for some people to remember that he was still a State Alchemist. Most of the people in the program opted to never move past their title as Major, sinking into their research and practices of alchemic science, especially after the Ishval War itself. He had been one of a few that chose to use their military titles instead, opting for Colonel instead of the Flame Alchemist.

Now it was Brigadier General Roy Mustang. But at the end of the day, in his heart, he was still a simple alchemist. That science had been his first dream, not the military, and it still ruled his nature. He may not have been as open and reverent about it as Edward Elric, but it was still a part of him. All alchemists were governed by the laws of equivalent exchange. His military rank made no difference of that. Roy knew that he had to pay for what he had done in Ishval, whether he'd been under orders or not. The people that had given the orders had paid in the end; now it was time for the people that had carried the orders out.

Taking a deep breath, Roy propped his elbow on the small ledge, placing his hand in front of his mouth, and stared out the window. He'd forgotten how thoughtful staring out train windows made him. He hadn't rode in a train since his move to Central, and even then, he'd kept most of his train rides to a minimal, preferring to travel by car if he could. There was too much open space in a train that left room for his thoughts.

"Sir?"

Roy looked over to see Riza glancing at him as she stood in the walkway. A quick glance reminded him of everyone else's positions on the train car. Breda was across from him, reading the morning's newspaper. Fuery was taking the opportunity to sleep in the seats to their left, face smashed up against the window. Falman was doing a crossword puzzle in a small book across from Fuery. Even to this day, Roy had to blink to remind himself that Havoc wasn't on the team any longer, though he was back in Eastern for his physical therapy with the promise that he would join up with them as soon as he could.

"I was just thinking," Roy said, sitting up straight in his seat.

Riza sat down in her seat next to him. "Anything in particular?"

"About what Ishval looks like now." Roy gazed out of the window again. There was still greenery, but it was becoming more apparent that they were getting closer to the desert with each hour that passed. Soon, they'd be in the heart of Ishval, where the sun would be unforgiving and the sand cutting. No doubt the blood had sunk deep into the sands after so many years, but it would be difficult to wash the stain away. "We were told that the Ishvalans that have returned have started rebuilding, but there's little to no order."

"I imagine that it will look like hell to us," Riza admitted quietly, "but maybe heaven to them. It was their home that we destroyed."

Roy hummed. "Do we have a right to call it hell? We were the ones that created it." He shook his head at himself and gave her a rueful look. "Well, I created it."

"We all had a hand in it, sir," Riza pointed out, her voice kinder than it should've been, "and we'll do what we can to rebuild it again. That's how it works, isn't it?"

Though she wasn't an alchemist, Riza could understand equivalent exchange better than most. She had been raised by a brilliant alchemist, living under his roof with a budding alchemist as well. She'd helped take care of two younger alchemists. And she had been marked by alchemy as well. She was someone that actively avoided learning alchemy, only to be surrounded by it. She had given him the knowledge of flame alchemy, and in return, she'd suffered under the use of that same alchemy with his hands to burn its secrets away. She had been nearly killed so that he would be forced to perform human transmutation and had known that his concern for her would not be enough.

Yes, his Captain knew equivalent exchange very well and what they had to do in order to atone for their sins.

"This will take years, won't it?" Roy sighed.

"Mounds of paperwork higher than the sand dunes," Riza added.

Roy peered at her through glaring eyes. "You're not making this any better."

"You won't be alone in it though," Riza pointed out.

And that was where she had him. During the war, he hadn't been completely alone. He'd had her near the end and he'd had Hughes throughout most of his time there. But when he'd been on the front lines, he had been on his own. There had been no one that he could lean on for support when the flames died down and the screams pitched high in the air. He couldn't go to any of the other State Alchemists for support. Now, though, he had his team. They would have his back and should he ever falter, they would be there for him.

Roy took a better look at her. She'd cut her hair after years of growing it out. If she thought he missed the fact that she was wearing the same haircut as she had when she'd first been in Ishval, she was mistaken. It was as if she didn't want to hide who she had been, even though her time serving had been more behind the scenes. The change was jarring at first. She'd grow it out again after, he somehow knew, but this was what she'd looked like when she had been the Hawk's Eye. Riza Hawkeye had always been a woman that confronted her mistakes head on without ever trying to hide.

She was still beautiful. There was never any hiding that, especially not anymore. Roy had found that, since regaining his eyesight, he couldn't stop the thoughts about her from seeping into his mind. He couldn't ignore her quite as well as before. She could try to hide her looks however way she wanted. He would've still thought the same of her. It was in her quiet manner, the slight quirk of her lips when something amused her, the way she resolutely had his back no matter what. Roy couldn't have come back to Ishval without her and he was entirely too grateful that she had never once balked at his decisions.

"I'm glad you're here with me," Roy finally said. His words implied the entire team, but when they locked eyes and he caught the softness in hers, he knew that she had understood what he meant. He was grateful that she was with him, that she was at his side, that she was alive after everything that they had gone through. He honestly didn't know what he would do without her. That was a scary thought indeed.


	65. The You Reflected in the Glass

**Author's Notes:** Thank you so so much, **Lin** , for your review! It was excellent and I completely agreed with you on all those points. I do think that Riza has some idea about alchemy; she just never connected with it and it's been so long since she tried. I appreciate every single one of your reviews! And yes, **ssadropout** , I wholeheartedly believe that Roy appreciates his team. He was so upset about what happened to Havoc, after all.

* * *

 _65\. The You Reflected in the Glass_

* * *

They'd given him a new office after coming back to Central from Ishval, not because he'd been promoted, but because his old office had been completely obliterated in Father's attack on the Promised Day. Of course, nearly all of Central Headquarters had been taken out by the blast, but his old office was wiped off the face of the planet. To be honest, Roy found it a little ironic – that the home base for his schemes for the future of Amestris was scratched off by a figure that was taken away by the same Truth that stole his eyes to see it, and yet Roy was the one still alive and watching everything unfold.

Not everyone found such amusement in it though. So much had to be fixed during the rebuilding of Central, something that he'd missed out on considering his state after the Promised Day and his immediate transfer to the East in order to oversee the reconstruction of Ishval. No one could say who had it easier, but Roy was pretty sure that if he'd had to choose which the more comfortable position, he would've stayed in Central. They had air conditioning, ice in their drinks, less sand, machinery, and a more trusting nature of alchemists.

After all, the Flame Alchemist was still a hero in most of Amestris, especially Central, while seen as a devil trying to make amends in Ishval.

Two long years later, Roy found himself back at Central Headquarters in his new, plush office. It was decorated more than any of his previous offices, though not by much, but it felt extravagant after the large tent he'd used as an office of sorts in Ishval. Strangely, Roy found himself uncomfortable with his new surroundings, tugging at things here and there, squinting at paintings, moving things around until the room felt more open. Everyone would assume that he would have enjoyed the finer things for his office, a show of money and power, and while he liked to portray that, it didn't sit right with him in the end.

His interior office, however, did have one upside: it came with an incredible view. It was on the second to top floor and overlooked most of Central City. The new Headquarters was taller than most of the buildings in Central, though not as wide as it had once been before. He could see into the beautiful park where Riza took Black Hayate on walks and could watch as the repairs slowly turned into nice works of architecture.

It was nice being able to see the transformation of his city firsthand. It definitely gave him some ideas of his own though. Roy was a man of designs. Just because he was close to the top didn't mean that he could afford to stop thinking like he was on the bottom. Being this close made things even more important. It helped that he was a General in Central while General Olivier Armstrong was still in the North, but he had to start working again to rebuild his reputation back here after being gone for so long. Some people hadn't thought it wise that he'd put so much of the military's time and resources into the Ishval reparations. As Hawkeye said, some people could never understand what the hell they were talking about.

Roy smiled at the memory of her saying that. Hawkeye very rarely swore and he could probably count on one hand all the times he'd heard her do it, so when she did allow herself the leeway to speak freely, it always came with more fire than he could ever manage. She'd even apologized afterwards. Some things never changed, no matter how much everything around them evolved.

"General?"

Glancing to the right, Roy caught Riza's reflection in the glass. As usual, when it came to this first week, he found himself standing at the window and looking out the office. Riza was a little calmer about him doing that since they were so high up, but she still thought it idiotic in case there was an attempt on his life. That hadn't happened in over a year though and it would be a little more dangerous to try that here in Central.

"I had an idea, Captain," Roy proclaimed. She stepped right behind him, not moving to the side so that she could get a better look at his face. That was her place anyways. Behind him, not at his side. He wished she wasn't so resolute in her nature sometimes, but then her steadfast loyalty was one of the reasons why he loved her. "I should be involved in the rebuilding here. It'd look good if I got my hands dirty for the people here as well."

"Is it getting your hands dirty if you use alchemy?" Riza asked him with a straight face. Her voice didn't falter either, but he thought that she was teasing him slightly. His ability to use clap alchemy now, as Edward had done, did come in handy though.

Roy allowed a faint smirk to cross his face. "It's showier. And General or not, I'm still an alchemist."

"It's a lucky thing you were promoted before your arrival, sir," Riza replied, "or you might not have been able to keep your old house."

This time, Roy knew that she was teasing him. He was no longer a State Alchemist, a title that had been a mixture of prestige and contempt from the people. Along with losing that title though, he'd lost the hefty paycheck that came with it. All State Alchemists were paid a surprising amount of money to help further their research, although Fullmetal had mostly used his for travel and medical expenses, it seemed. However, while his own title of the Flame Alchemist would always follow him, that wasn't who he was anymore.

The State Alchemist program had been retired – or rather, it had been revamped. It was no longer connected with the military, more focused on research and advancements in science, a completely separate branch of its own, a show of peace that Amestris would not use alchemy in the conduct of war. One of the conditions had been that no one could be a State Alchemist and also in the military, and so many men and women were forced to choose one or the other. It had been a difficult time for many. For some, alchemy had been their way into the military and they'd risen the ranks, their titles becoming intertwined with one another; for others, it had been a blessing, so that they could shed their military skin and along with it their duties.

"What a horror that would have been. Staying with my aunt for a week while everything was moved was horrid enough as it was." Roy gave her a pointed look, arching an eyebrow at her. "But then _someone_ wouldn't let me stay with them, so I had to make due."

"If you recall, I was moving as well," Riza pointed out coolly, "and Havoc did offer to put you up in his place."

Roy made a face. "And have to deal with listening to him and Catalina have sex in the room next door? I don't think so." All Havoc had been able to do was talk about how much he missed the woman while on the train ride out of Ishval, like he hadn't seen her the week before. It had reminded Roy horribly of Hughes, except with more graphic details about how great their sex life was. Just the mere thought of it had Roy almost shuddering.

Though she didn't chuckle, her reflection gave her away, as she allowed a small smile to appear. "Everyone was very enthusiastic to return back to Central."

Finally turning around, Roy looked at Riza directly. "And what about you? Excited to see anyone upon your return besides your best friend?"

"Those people never left my side," Riza told him earnestly. "I was lucky in that respect."

Roy nodded his head. He had been lucky as well. His team had gone with him to Ishval, though Falman had arrived later with Lieutenant-Colonel Miles and Havoc once he was through with physical therapy after the use of the Philosopher's Stone on his spinal cord. Breda and Fuery had jumped on the chance to be reunited and Riza… Well, even when she'd been taken from him, Riza had never left him. She was always one step behind him, ready to do whatever he asked of her.

"We've a lot to do," Roy said, turning to look out the window one last time. "The meeting with the Fuhrer isn't until three, right?"

"Yes, sir, I'll have the paperwork on the topics being discussed on your desk by one."

Roy sighed. He may have been close to the top, but he still didn't like paperwork anymore. It only seemed to get worse with a higher rank. He'd never seen any of his commanding officers buried so deep in papers and reports, but then, maybe they'd considered themselves above things like that since they'd believed they were being offered immortality.

Just as he went to sit down at his desk, Roy halted. "Oh, one more thing." Riza paused and looked back at him curiously. "I noticed that you're growing out your hair again."

Without seeming to realize it, Riza reached up and tugged at her hair. It was just now falling past her ears, near to the point where she'd wear it in one of those messy bobs that Catalina was so fond of styling. "Coming back here, it just seemed…right." He could tell that she was fighting the urge to blush, whether because she was embarrassed by her thoughts or his gaze, he wasn't sure. "It feels the same as before, when we met Edward, Alphonse, and Winry, like something new is on the horizon."

Roy sat down and leaned back in his seat, reflecting on her words. "You know, you're right. I've been trying to pinpoint a feeling in my gut, and that's exactly it. Thank you, Captain."

Riza inclined her head to him once and then stepped out of the room. Roy tapped on his desk as he swiveled his chair to the side, so that he could prop one elbow on the table and still gaze out the window. This was all new, true, but it was more than that. It felt like change, like they'd turned the page in their book and were staring the next chapter, but he remembered this feeling. He could remember seeing the Elric brothers for the first time and knowing that they were going to change his life somehow. Looking out this window made him feel that again. Things were going to change, and he was going to take charge of it.


	66. The Pounding of the Heart

**Author's Notes:** Thanks everyone for reading! This is one of my favorites of all the drabbles I've written. It's another soulmate tattoo AU, this time focused on Riza, but it can be read solo. Timeline-wise speaking, it's a sequel to **Drabble 59 ("Gift")** and a prequel to **Drabble 37 ("Match")**. I got really carried away when I wrote this, so it's hella long. Enjoy!

* * *

 _66\. The Pounding of a Heart_

* * *

Ishval is hotter than anything Riza has ever experienced during the day. She's pale and blonde-haired and forced to hide under her white coat, lest she wants to suffer sun poisoning. Three weeks into her deployment, she sat in the sand outside of her tent for nearly thirty minutes, the coat defiantly cast off to the side, and was forced to deal with a old field medic that chastised her for being an idiot while treating her sunburn.

Riza breathes in the sandy, dry air. The burn crossing over her nose and cheeks reminds her that she's alive. She began to wonder if maybe she died on the train and this was hell. Maybe that was the sun talking. She wouldn't be the first person to go delirious after being out here for so long. A few of the soldiers were beginning to crack under the heat and some of the State Alchemists were losing their touch as well. The other day, through the safety of her scope, she watched as one alchemist ended a transmutation mid-way and was blown off his feet by the rebound.

For the most part, Riza can hide under that white cloak in a niche. The sun beats down on her mercilessly, but she creates a tent of sorts in the coat and peers through the scope of her rifle. She's alone, silent, the sound of her steady breathing mixing with the wind. She lies in wait and watches. Breathes. Squeezes the trigger. The shot booms across the expanse. The gun clicks as she moves to eject the casing. Breathes again. The daylight is her domain. Everything is so bright, the sun paling the beige sand that is stained with blood. She rarely closes her eyes, not even to blink. She can't allow any room for mistakes, and so she forces herself to watch.

At night, she's given some reprieve. There's little need for a sniper at night, and so she can hide in her tent and try to remember life back home or crouch beside a fire and force food into her body. Rebecca writes to her a few times, but stops when Riza can't bring herself to reply after the second one. She doesn't know what to say.

 _Hey there, best friend, sorry I haven't written in a while. I'm too busy murdering people and watching the boy I thought I once loved use the alchemy I gave him to destroy towns._

Riza closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. Thinking about people back home always gets her worked up, but she can't stop herself sometimes. She's still young. Getting distracted is a mistake. Feeling regret and shame right now is a mistake. There will be plenty of time for that later should she make it out of her alive.

Usually at this time of night, she's already hunkered down on her cot, clutching her pillow tightly, but right now, she's standing in line with a few other soldiers. The gun in her hands is not the familiar sniper rifle that she's grown used to, but a semi-automatic that she knows how to use nonetheless. It wasn't that unusual to get called onto a mission that wasn't related to her field of expertise and she knew what to do, but it's disconcerting to be surrounded by other comrades. She's used to being alone, the relationship between her and her prey almost intimate and distant at the same time.

Her heart pounds wildly in her chest as she realizes what could happen. She's not used to seeing death up close and personal, only through a lens, and that frightens her.

Unable to stop herself, her eyes swing to the left, swooping past a few soldiers and onto one man in particular that stands off to the side. Unlike most of them, he still has his white cloak on over his uniform. As they continue to stalk forward into the town, he pauses to tug on white gloves, sharp eyes focused on his hands and not on the scene before him. His face is pulled into a tight mask, but she can tell that he's struggling somewhat and it tugs at her heart. A part of her wants to break line, walk over to him, and help him with his gloves – and then another part of her wants to smack him clear across the face.

Roy Mustang strikes a lot of fear in the hearts of the Ishvalans, admiration and respect in his fellow soldiers', and a wild range of emotions that Riza can't even begin to describe in hers.

He doesn't look at her when he starts forward again, even though she knows instinctively that he can feel her watching him. He flinched when he found out that she was on this night mission with him and reared to argue with their commanding officer, only to halt when he realized that there was nothing that he could say. He looked at her glumly then and she attempted to give him an accepting glance that told him it wasn't his fault, but she can tell even now that he isn't happy. He's tense, fists clenched at his side, eyes boring holes into the town straight ahead. He doesn't want her to see his work up close.

Riza almost sighs. There isn't any room for happiness here. He should know that by now. Stupid idealistic boy, even now, desperate to hold onto something.

They're almost on top of the town when gunfire goes off to her right and shouting causes her attention to jump in the direction. Small bursts of light from guns being shot speckle the dark, near-moonless night. This wasn't supposed to happen. Ironically, their sneak attack was snuck up on. The soldiers, not prepared for the attack and even more helpless in the dark, begin to panic and all hell breaks loose.

Men are shooting in the dark and screams pitch in the air around her. There has to be some friendly fire going on around as everyone falls victim to panic. A general screams behind them to gather their wits, someone shouts to fall back, a woman is cut off mid-scream. For a mere second, Riza stands there frozen, but then jerks to the left and runs so that she can slide behind a rock for cover. She presses herself against the cool rock, breathing heavily and clutching the gun against her chest, as gunshots fly over her head. It's only when she realizes that the gun is shaking in her hands that she manages to take a shuddering deep breath and reign herself in.

She glances to the side and spots the body of someone in a white cloak laying face first on the ground. Her heart shoots right into her throat and she chokes. _No._ The single word whimpers in her mind, her stomach swirling violently _._ It's the only thing she can think.

In the back of her head, she knows that it's a stupid move, but she has to get to him. She has to make sure he's alive. She has to protect him. And so Riza abandons her safety behind the rock, ducking as she runs towards the body and falls onto her knees, grabbing hold of his shoulders. "Major!" When she pulls the man onto his back, all of the air leaves her body and she stares down blankly.

It isn't Roy. The body belongs to a soldier whose name she doesn't know, red blossoming on the white coat over his heart.

Just as relief sneaks inside her, bullets smack into the sand around her and through the air. Riza shouts and leans forward over the body as one of the bullets just barely misses her. Before she can return fire though, there's a loud snap and a large wall of flames shoots between her and anyone shooting at her. The explosion nearly knocks her backwards, but she's able to keep herself upright on her knees. She has to throw a hand up to shield herself from the sudden light, but she never looks away as the flames rise higher and shouts turn into horrified screams. The flames are so close to her yet not touching her, a dangerous shield, and the blazing heat from them blows on her like a hot caress.

It's while Riza is staring at Roy's flames protecting her that she feels a wicked burn on her arm, like something cutting lines through her skin. She gasps at the sudden pain and grabs at her right forearm, doubling over from the shock. When she pulls a shaky hand away from her arm and shoves her sleeve up, her vision blurs and all she can see is haphazardly written dark lines marring her pale skin, the flames causing strange shadows to dance around and on her.

The soulmate mark. She was branded with a soulmate tattoo mark in the middle of battle. Absurd laughter threatens to bubble to the surface, but she bites down on her tongue so hard that the metallic taste of blood seeps in her mouth. Riza trembles under the weight of the implication of this mark. She has a soulmate, and the universe thought it fit to mar her with this information right now. What is she to think of that? She's in the heat of battle, gunfire and screams filling the air, fire blanketing her for protection, friend and foe dying alike around her, and then her soulmate's first words to her sear onto her skin. She nearly collapses, but grits her teeth, lets the sleeve fall back over her arm, and pushes herself to her feet.

Once she's up, the flames die down, like they alone were waiting for her to be ready. When Riza looks over, she spots a glimpse of Roy, and he's staring at her with worry plain on his face. She takes a deep breath and gives him a short nod. The worry fades from his face, leaving him with a hard expression, but not entirely from his eyes. Had he seen her suddenly jerk in pain? The words throb on her still, but she shoves the pain deep down and tries to focus on staying alive, telling herself that the mark means that she will live past this. She shoots and runs, ducks and waits, shoots more, until finally all that's left are the general's shouting commands to cease fire and get their shit together.

Riza shakily stands up, gun slack in her arms, and looks around. A few men are groaning on the ground as medics begin to survey the field. Others are standing around looking as shell-shocked as she is while one or two walk around to finish off any injured Ishvalans. She's not sure what to do or think when she feels a hand on her elbow.

Turning around, she spots Roy standing next to her, eyes focused on her face. "Are you alright?" he asks, his voice very careful so as to not quake. "Were you shot? I saw you jerk forward and–"

"No," Riza responds a little too quickly. She takes a deep breath and shakes her head. He lets go of her, but he doesn't look away. "I wasn't shot, I mean. I'm fine. Thank you." Without thinking, she goes to grip at her arm again, which causes his eyes to flicker down and then look up at her questioningly. She stares back at him, unable and refusing to answer. "You saved my life."

She doesn't want to know how many men were killed by those flames that shot up to protect her. She heard the painful shrieks to know that it was more than one. She also knows that he doesn't want any gratitude. There's something strangely sick about being thanked for doing their job here. He nods his head and then walks away to help an injured soldier off the ground.

By the time Riza finds herself back at camp, she can't stomach to eat anything and her arm is throbbing even worse than before. She supposes that happens when you get your soulmate mark later in life or maybe because she hasn't looked at it properly yet. The dull thuds have grown more insistent, reminding her that she's still unknowing, but she keeps ignoring them until she's alone in her tent.

After peeling off her uniform coat, she tosses it to the side and sits down on her cot. She doesn't want to admit that she's scared to see the words written on her skin, but she is. Why is it that they would choose to appear on her now? Soulmate marks are supposed to be something happy, something heartwarming. There is nothing about this place that resembles that. Why would something so good show up during a time that is so bad? She wonders if her more self-loathing thoughts prompted it, out of hopefulness or cruelty, she isn't sure. No one knows why soulmate tattoo marks appear when they do.

Steeling herself, Riza finally gazes down at her arm and stills completely as soon as she catches the first word. She's heard these words before, can recall them as clear as day, but that doesn't matter. Even if she couldn't remember them being spoken to her, she would still know who they belonged to. After all, his name was written on her skin for her clear as day in a familiar messy scrawl.

 _Roy, call me Roy, I mean, not Mister Mustang._

Riza has to bring a hand up to her mouth to stifle a cry as tears spring into her eyes, blurring her vision of the tattoo once more. When the mark was seared onto her skin, she thought for a second that Roy's flames burned her. She wasn't. Instead, she was burned by his words, marked as his forever.

She is his soulmate. He is hers. The determined boy that convinced her father to take him on as an apprentice, the ridiculous boy that wore down her defenses and wormed his way into her heart, the idiot boy that chose duty to his country above all else, the idealistic young man with dreams for a future that made her trust him, the relentless soldier that was both a hero and devil with his flame alchemy… They would be tied together, their lives a tangled mess, unable to leave the other completely behind.

Riza laughs coldly now from behind her hand, but then goes quiet just as quickly. Her mind latches onto memories from long ago. The way his eyes would settle on her so gently, the bright laughs whenever she said something witty, the charming smiles when no one else was looking, his hand on her elbow, the too close dancing in the attack, panicky looks, his crushed expression when he first saw her out here. She comes to a conclusion very quickly. Jumping to her feet, she leaves her tent and walks resolutely to Roy's tent. She's only half in uniform, but she doesn't care. She doesn't care about anything. She just– She _needs_ –

Right when she's about to storm into his tent, Roy steps out and they nearly collide. Both of them halt right in time and stare at each other, him looking down at her with wide eyes and an open mouth, her glaring up at him with narrowed eyes and lips pressed into a thin line. Now that he's in front of her though, she doesn't know what to say – she doesn't even know if she can speak. All the demanding words that were swirling in her mind moments ago fade away and leave her with a constricted throat.

Tentatively, Roy puts a hand on her shoulder. "Hawkeye, are you okay?"

He can't even say her name – it's like he won't allow himself, like he doesn't deserve to – and she thinks of the words marking her skin as his, mocking her for her own inability to say his, to follow them. She can't say his name. She can't do what he asked of her all those years ago. His first words to her claimed her as his – and it was the one thing that she couldn't follow.

It takes a wild amount of strength that Riza doesn't know she has left for her to keep her eyes trained on his as she raises her right arm. He gazes at her questioningly and then looks down. Immediately, Roy pulls back and she watches as he folds in on himself, turning into the saddest boy she has ever seen. His eyes become hooded for a moment, his face filled with torment and regret, his shoulders slump, but then he gently takes her arm in his hand. He traces the outline of his words with a delicate finger, smoothing away the burning pain with his touch, and she shivers.

But what stuns her the most is the look of recognition in his eyes, and that's when it confirms it for her. Still, it doesn't feel anything less than breathless.

"You knew."

Roy gazes at her sadly and nods his head.

Her breath hitches in her throat. His hands are hot against her skin, but the once burning tattoo feels so cool under his touch. Still, she can't help but tremble. "How long?" she asks.

"Since I've known you," he admits quietly. She almost whimpers. "I got the mark before I met you, when I was ten." He rubs his thumb along her forearm. "I knew it was you the moment we first met."

"Why didn't you–?" Her voice cracks and she bites down on her lip. She feels the most absurd urge to cry. They told each other everything, but he hadn't told her this. He kept it from her. Waited for her. Never once forced his feelings or knowledge on her. She knows that not telling her about his soulmate mark was for the best, but it still stings.

"I realized immediately that you didn't have the mark yet, so I figured that meant you weren't supposed to know," Roy tells her. "I didn't want to pressure you. I wanted you to make your own choices, grow into your own feelings, do what you wanted to do, not because you felt obligated. I didn't want to make you feel like you had to…"

He didn't want her to feel like she had to fall in love with him, right? Riza wants to call him an idiot. She wants to beat him in the chest, run her fingers through his hair, pull him flush against her and kiss him, hold him, shake him, run away from him, never let him go. He didn't tell her because he didn't want her to feel like she didn't have a choice in who she loved. But has she ever had a choice in that? Riza can only ever remember loving Roy Mustang. It was like she didn't need his words written on her skin for her to know that she was his.

His gaze softens under hers. He doesn't need for her to speak for him to know what she's thinking. They can't say them anyway, not here, not now. She doesn't know when. It will be a long time, she thinks, before they will allow themselves the luxury of having each other.

"Where?" she asks instead.

He gives her a small, lopsided grin, causing her stomach to flip flop, and lets go of her arm so that he can lift up his shirt a little. She spots her own careful handwriting tattooed on his lower left abdomen: _If you could please follow me to your room, Mister Mustang._

Riza catches herself reaching out to touch the words, but stops herself when she's a hair's breadth away. She's afraid. She's afraid that if she'll touch him, she won't be able to stop. And besides, it isn't appropriate. He's her superior now, Major Mustang, while she is still technically a cadet, even if she is on the battlefield. Clenching her hand into a fist, she pulls it back and drops it to her side. He lets go of his shirt and it falls back down.

"Your handwriting hasn't changed since then," he says, the grin still on his face. "Constant as ever, just like you."

"Yours improved, but only marginally," she replies.

Silence falls between them again as both their eyes drop to the ground. The mark doesn't burn anymore. Maybe all it needed was his touch. She's not sure how soulmate tattoo marks work. Her father had one, but he refused to talk about it or even admit that it was there, faded as it was after her mother's death. She only knows a handful of people with them and has followed in her father's footsteps in actively avoiding talk about them. Rebecca has one, she knows, terrible handwriting tattooed on her hip. Her friend proclaims to be proud of it despite how furiously she blushes, but she also has the decency to not talk about it in front of Riza for the most part. Other than that, she's never bothered to ask any questions about them.

"We can't," Riza begins, but then stops herself.

"I know," Roy adds miserably.

When he locks eyes with her, there's a hopeful gleam in his eyes, reminding her so much of the young man that talked about his youthful aspirations at her father's funeral. Her heart pounds so strongly in her chest that she feels like can't breathe. He still desperately wants to believe that there is a bright future for them – that he can make a difference – that they can deserve something good and whole. She doesn't know if it's possible anymore, not after what they've done with their foolishness and naivety, but she knows that she can't be whole without him anyways.

"So we keep this to ourselves," Riza says.

"And act as if we don't know and nothing has changed," Roy agrees.

Riza frowns at that. "You've always known though. Nothing has changed for you."

"Doesn't mean that this doesn't hurt even more," Roy points out. He's right, of course. Now that both of them know, it will make things ten times more difficult. He held himself back for her because of her lack of awareness, but now only they themselves can hold each other back. The only barrier between them is one another. It's terribly ironic. "Tomorrow is going to be a long day of debriefing about tonight's mission. I suggest you get some sleep, cadet."

Riza salutes him. "Yes, sir."

(God, she just wants to say his name. It sits on the tip of her tongue, begging to be said, but she knows that she can't. She's not allowed. She doesn't deserve to be able to say it.)

She has to force herself to turn so that she can leave when Roy calls out to her and she stops in her tracks. "And be careful." Her head drops and she closes her eyes and smiles faintly before starting up again. It's as close as he can get to saying what he really wants to say, but she understands. All the times he said those words to her, he really meant something else and she understands it now.

The next morning, Riza wraps a bandage around her forearm, claiming to have been wounded in the gunfire the night before when another soldier asks her about it. She catches eyes with Roy, spotting a knowing look in his eyes, and has to tear her eyes away from him quickly as her heart leaps. Everything has changed, but in a way, the knowledge that he's her soulmate and she is his has changed nothing for her either.


	67. Quirks

**Author's Notes:** I wanted to write about Team Mustang from someone else's POV, so this is what you all got. Thanks for reading!

* * *

 _67\. Quirks_

* * *

It was no surprise that the men (and woman) that worked under Colonel Roy Mustang had their…quirks. Doctor Knox had known the Colonel for quite some time and passively knew Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye from their time served in Ishval, but had only recently become acquainted with the rest of the team that served under the man whose victims he used to dissect. At first glance, they seemed like a normal crew, if maybe a little ragtag, but they were loyal to their commanding officer and did their job.

When Knox was forced to deal with them after an accident left one of them injured and mysteriously unable to go to the hospital for treatment, he found out otherwise the hard way. Damn Mustang for always dragging him into shit that he had no business being in. He was a coroner, a pathologist at best, not a medical doctor. Why couldn't Mustang climb the military ladder like a normal person?

There was his makeshift patient, Second Lieutenant Heymans Breda, who was fairly disgruntled about being in the situation, but didn't complain. He was, after all, suffering from a head wound that bleed freely into his face, so he seemed to understand why he needed stitches. At first, Knox thought that Breda alone might be the sane one, until Knox's dog, a straggly old mutt named Boomer that was probably the only thing he'd kept in the divorce, wandered into the room.

The moment that Breda's eyes latched onto the dog, the man had damn near crawled on top of the fridge to get away, screaming obscenities and flailing about so that blood flecked across the floor and on Knox's jacket. It had taken the three other men on Mustang's team to drag him back down and force him into the chair. He sat there, pale-faced and stricken, and stared at the old dog in horror. Knox couldn't believe it. The man didn't flinch one bit when he'd started stitching him up, but he couldn't deal with a seventeen year-old dog that could only muster eating, sleeping, and shitting these days.

"I hate dogs," Breda muttered.

Knox grumbled under his breath. Breda hated dogs and yet here he was, working right under one. The only bright side was that Breda didn't even seem to notice the stitches since his eyes were locked onto the dog in a staring death match. He was as still as a cadaver. What kind of person hated dogs?

Next up was Warrant Officer Vato Falman, a man who Knox initially thought looked the most normal and unassuming of the team. He was older than the others, though still younger than Knox, his hair prematurely graying. Quiet and thoughtful, he came off as more mature than the rest of the men that he worked with – and he was knowledgeable as well. Knox could respect a man that knew more than just how to clean a wound with water and soap, which was what most idiots in the military did. He'd brought up the idea that Breda was most likely suffering from a concussion, something else that Knox could respect.

What Knox hadn't planned on was the absolute depth of Falman's knowledge. It wasn't that he knew what he was talking about because he'd studied it. Merely, he had read about it and was able to regurgitate information on the spot like some sort of encyclopedia. He rattled off terms that Knox hadn't heard since his med school days, though he asked questions as well since he didn't know the exact details or context. Knox was almost certain that Mustang could pick a topic at random and Falman would be able to say at least one thing about it, maybe even write a short essay.

"I suppose we won't know the full extent of your injuries for a while," Falman pointed out, though not in a very comforting manner. "The symptoms for a concussion can show up hours, even days later."

Knox couldn't help but stare suspiciously at the man every now and then. How did his brain manage to fit all of that information in there? (Oh, the day he met Sheska would be a dark one indeed.)

A rather confusing member of the team, Master Sergeant Kain Fuery certainly didn't look old enough to be in the military, but then he may have just had a boyish face. Mustang himself had suffered from that when he'd first joined the Academy, but he'd grown into his looks well enough. Fuery, to be frank, looked as green as a tomato garden. How he'd managed to find himself on Mustang's team was a question in itself, as he should have known by now what Mustang got into.

And yet for his age (and Knox was almost positive that Fuery had lied about his age to get into the military), the younger officer handled things well. When they'd first dragged Breda inside, Fuery had peered inside and simply asked, "Uh, Dr. Knox, you wouldn't happen to have a screwdriver, a very sharp knife, and tape, would you?" After assembling the three items in question, he left the building and then came back in carrying what looked like a pile of technological junk that had been shot up. He set about tinkering with the thing, occasionally shooting curious looks over the broken machine at them. The only time he stopped working and started talking was when Breda tried to escape from old Boomer.

 _What an odd kid,_ Knox couldn't help but think. He looked nothing like the kind of soldier that Mustang would have on his team, but of course Knox knew that Mustang wouldn't work closely with anyone unless he picked them specifically himself, so there had to be something about Fuery that caught Mustang's attention. Knox supposed to some people would've felt proud that Roy Mustang chose to work with them; Knox just wanted to get this over with so that he could go back to sleep. He was an old man and not in war anymore. What was Mustang's deal, waking him up in the middle of the night like this?

Now it came as a small surprise that it was not Second Lieutenant Jean Havoc that was forced to be Knox's patient tonight when Knox knew for a fact that the sandy-haired officer had a habit of jumping right in the middle of a gunfight. With an ever-present cigarette hanging limp from between an easy grin, he stood behind Breda's back, one hand on the chair and another on his comrade's shoulder. Knox wasn't foolish enough to believe that it was emotional support; Havoc was holding Breda down and keeping him from running away again if the dog in the corner of the room decided to move.

While Breda silently suffered through the treatment, Fuery worked away on the busted machine, and Falman went through an old medical textbook that he'd found lying around, Havoc talked practically non-stop about utter nonsense, mostly about some beautiful woman that he'd met a few weeks ago.

"She's absolutely perfect," Havoc proclaimed. "Beautiful brown hair, lovely figure, very witty, and a damn good shot too. She even has the cutest pout. But you know what the best thing is?" He pat Breda on the shoulder and laughed. "She doesn't like the Colonel! He won't be able to steal this one away!"

Knox snorted, though Havoc didn't seem to notice. The poor idiot. Knox was pretty sure that Mustang hadn't met a woman that he couldn't sway back into his good graces. He'd seen Mustang at work a few times when he'd found himself in the same bar. Women seemingly melted around him, some even falling in his arms after proclaiming to feel dizzy and hot, though Knox had his suspicions about that. Perhaps the only woman that did not fall victim to Mustang's charm and absurd antics was his adjutant, but she had to put up with him in a completely different manner.

Speaking of the First Lieutenant… Out of everyone on the team, Knox figured that Riza Hawkeye made the least sense. Of course, it came without saying that when you saw Colonel Roy Mustang, his adjutant was not far behind since she was his assistant. But the woman was steadfast about her job, completely no-nonsense, and professional to a t. She was, in other words, the perfect subordinate. Knox had heard people wondering out loud about why someone like her would follow someone like Mustang. He'd never voiced his thoughts aloud, but it did make him wonder.

Hawkeye stood to the left of the room near the fridge, so that she was afforded a good view of outside and also everyone else in the room. It was the best spot to stand tactically speaking. She was quiet and unassuming, having shortly thanked him for his help before taking her position in the room. Nothing about her sweeping gaze said that she was worried, but he knew that if anyone were to try anything, she would be ready to respond without a moment's hesitation. While Havoc rambled, she said nothing, although Knox did catch her actually rolling her eyes when Havoc brought up his perfect new woman. It was more like she was amused than irritated though.

How Hawkeye was able to put up with the antics of this quirky group of men was beyond Knox. He probably would've lost his mind after a month. But he noticed the way the men deferred to her. While Havoc, Falman, and Fuery had fought with Breda during his fit, it had been Hawkeye casually checking the clip of her gun that stilled Breda and had all of them look at her sharply. She hadn't even been looking at them. Knox honestly pitied the man that decided he loved her.

And then there was the man himself, the leader, the Colonel, the Flame Alchemist. They had a lot of names for him going around. Hero of Ishval. That name caused Knox to huff irritably, but while Mustang barely seemed to pay attention to it, he could tell that it got under his skin. There had been no heroes in Ishval. Both of them knew that. Knox had seen Mustang's handiwork up close and personal. That hadn't been the mark of a hero, nothing like any of the stories that his son had been so fond of when he was a small child.

Nowadays, Mustang wore his titles like a coat. He leaned against the threshold between the living room and the kitchen, watching Knox's work with a small, knowing grin. He was probably thinking of the times that Knox had been forced to stitch up one of his wounds on the battlefield. Mustang had been a terrible patient, squirming and complaining and grumbling that he had other things to do. He'd been injured tonight as well apparently on their little mission, but nothing major, he'd assured. His concern was for his man. Hawkeye had bristled at his words, but said nothing to the contrary. If Mustang knew that he was in for a lashing later, he didn't show it. Knox didn't pity him. It was his idiot stubbornness that made him like that.

"There, you're done," Knox said, leaning back in his seat. Breda reached up to touch his head gingerly. "Don't go being an idiot and doing something that tears your stitches out because I am not fixing them again."

Breda paused and took his hand away from his head. He glanced at Boomer with narrowed eyes and slowly stood up, never taking his eyes off the sleeping dog. Honestly, the man called himself a soldier and he was terrified of a mutt that didn't even have most of his teeth and was going deaf.

"Let's get you back to the dorms," Havoc said, leading his fellow Second Lieutenant to the door.

"We'll have to keep him awake for at least a few hours, just in case," Falman informed them.

Fuery perked up as he began to gather all of his things. The machine he'd been working on looked like it weighed almost as much as he did, but he somehow managed to carry it. "There's supposed to be a new show on the radio tonight."

"Is it one of those geek radio talk shows again?" Havoc asked.

"Um…" Fuery smiled sheepishly. "Maybe."

"We're trying to keep the man awake, not put him to sleep," Havoc said before he stepped through the door that Falman was holding open. The four men walked outside, their light banter fading out of earshot.

Knox sighed and looked down at his table. This was going to take some cleaning up, but it wasn't as bad as it could have been. Head wounds bleed like mad, even if they were shallow, and this one had been no different. It'd be a bitch to get those bloodstains out of their jackets. Knox took note of the fact that Roy's jacket had more blood on it than everyone else's besides Breda's himself, though it was obvious that it wasn't his own.

"Are you sure that you don't want any help cleaning this?" Hawkeye asked him. "We've put you out enough as it is already."

She'd offered to help as soon as he'd agreed to help them, but just as he did then, Knox waved her away. "I'll be able to clean it better on my own. I know where everything goes." He jerked a thumb at the Colonel standing behind him. "Besides, I'll shit a brick the day that one cleans anything."

"Hey, I'll have you know, I clean up a lot after the military when someone makes a mess of things," Mustang said cheekily. He had a grin on his face to match his voice as he walked over to where the Lieutenant stood. Knowing him, the golden boy of Eastern, he probably did – but that didn't mean that he made a mess every now and then as well, if tonight was any example. "If you need anything…"

"A pay raise, a stronger bottle of whiskey, and a decent night's sleep without any bastards barging into my house."

Mustang chuckled. "I can help with one of those things."

It wasn't the sleep; that was for sure. The coming year would prove that by a long shot. Damn Mustang and his weird as hell team. Knox was getting too old for this shit.


	68. Song

**Author's Notes:** Thank you, **Enghel**! I love that old grump. If you do like Knox though and would've liked to see him play a bigger role, I suggest reading **mebh** 's fanfic "Quiet Crown". It's quite possibly one of my all-time favorite fanfics and is an incredible work of art. It also features Knox in a role that I never would've thought of, but is genius! As for this drabble, this...is absolute crack. It could be considered a Modern AU, but only because of the music. It's based off a dumb post I made on tumblr. Because I love Havoc too much.

* * *

 _68\. Song_

* * *

It was a well-known fact – and an actual rule for the team created by the man in charge himself – that the driver picked the music. Everyone else had to shut up and deal with whatever they played. It could honestly be the worst song in the world, but if the driver at the time decided that they wanted to listen to it, then that was what they listened to. Because they were adults, Havoc knew that half the time they abused this power. One time, Breda forced everyone to listen to nothing but Eminem for an entire hour out of sheer spite despite not liking it either. Even Hawkeye had been twitching by the time they reached their destination, muttering about throwing Breda in the trunk of the car and seeing how he liked it.

Everyone seemed to have a different taste in music, and so the music they listened to on their trips varied.

Falman preferred jazz and bounced his hands on the steering wheel along to the beat. His music was pretty easygoing and pleasant. It was definitely music you could listen to while reading. Fuery unabashedly enjoyed pop, bouncing along to anything upbeat, though he stopped playing anything Spice Girl related once Havoc started to sing loudly with it. He liked fun, dancing music, even though he was admittedly a terrible dancer. Breda loved rap and, despite the fact that most people considered him to be slow, he could keep up with most of the lyrics that had the rest of their heads spinning. He was also particular about it and proclaimed to prefer rap that told stories and listened for the rhythm and beats, but he may have just been bragging to a group of pretty girls at a bar that night.

Of course, Mustang proclaimed that classic rock was the best music there was. He was a big snob about it. Luckily for nearly everyone in the car, that kind of music was pretty normal and everyone liked it, even if they didn't love it. He did play a good amount of 80's rock though that was somewhat suspect. Mustang would cough and change the station if a love ballad came on, but he always hesitated. Havoc knew for a fact, however, that the Colonel was obsessed with 80's music, having witnessed the man singing "Total Eclipse of the Heart" in his car when he thought no one was around. Havoc was saving that blackmail for later. And then there were days when Mustang only seemed to want to listen to classical music, as if it made him look fancier or more interesting. That was usually when there was an attractive woman around.

Much like Havoc himself, Hawkeye listened to pretty much anything. She wasn't all that particular. The only thing she didn't care for was some of the coarser rap that Breda played and maybe the twangier country music, but she never complained. Havoc knew for a fact though that Riza really loved bands or singers that had a powerful female voice. He'd caught her humming along to some of the songs that Fuery played, though she seemed to do it subconsciously. Some may have found it stereotypical, but Havoc thought it rather endearing. Their First Lieutenant liked to come off as completely stoic, but she did have a soft side somewhere.

Admittedly, Havoc did hail from the country, and so he'd been born and raised on country music. Plus, playing the acoustic guitar was a great way to pick up chicks. Girls liked musicians. And he had found that it was easier for him to play country music. But honestly, Havoc liked whatever he could find on the radio. He was a people pleaser when it came to choosing music in the car. He played some rap for Breda, jazz for Falman, classic rock for Mustang, pop songs for Fuery, and anything in between for himself and Hawkeye. Usually, putting it on the station that played the most popular songs was an easy fit for them. Indie rock was just good music for him.

But then there were some opportunities that Havoc could not simply pass by. With great power came an absolute responsibility to abuse that power. In the case of driving, there were times when Havoc went out of his way to be as passive aggressive about his choice of music as possible. Whether or not anyone else had realized the habit that he'd fallen into on certain occasions didn't matter to Havoc, as long as Mustang didn't catch on. He would soon enough, but until then, Havoc decided to enjoy these moments for as long as he could.

For the most part, while they all took turns driving, Hawkeye did most of it. Whether it was because she was the most trustworthy behind the wheel was not up for debate. Havoc was next in line, having done a lot of work on military vehicles back when he'd been at the Academy and afterwards. He didn't care particularly either way, but whenever they needed to go somewhere and it was raining, Havoc fought for control of the wheel. He needed that power; he needed the ability to choose the music. It was absolutely necessary in fulfilling his day.

After all, this was probably one of the few ways that Havoc could get back at his superior officer for every time the man stole one of his crushes.

"Where to, sir?" Havoc asked as he started the car.

Mustang clicked his seatbelt into place. "Twenty-eighth and Faust."

"Right-o, then." Havoc shifted into first gear and they were on their way. There had been a call about a possible sighting of a fugitive that had been evading capture for months. The man was wanted for multiple robberies and defamation of government property. Basically, he'd been stealing from the government and then tagging his hits with very…colorful and suggestive spray paintings. Havoc thought it was kind of amusing, but the higher ups did not tolerate such behavior.

But that wasn't the reason why Havoc was in such a good mood. It was raining. Normally, this did not bode well for them, seeing as how everyone knew that Mustang was "useless" on rainy days. Still, they also all knew that he was an excellent military officer that was fully capable even without the use of his alchemy and the fugitive in question didn't use alchemy, so they weren't particularly worried. Havoc loved driving when it rained, even when it made most people more nervous. He loved it because he got to pick the music and there was one song in particular that he loved playing for multiple reasons.

Without looking away from the road, Havoc picked out a CD from a case they kept in the console and popped it into the stereo system. The first song that played was a fairly popular indie rock song that everyone could enjoy. He could hear Fuery singing under his breath in the corner and even Breda nodded his head to the beat. That was just to lull everyone into believing that Havoc was being nice.

The few seconds in between the first and second song were agonizingly long, and Havoc's heart raced in his chest while he fought the urge to grin like an idiot. However, the moment that the piano began to play, he caught sight of Mustang tensing in his seat and his mouth pressing into a thin line.

Adele's "Set Fire to the Rain" – quite possibly Mustang's least favorite song in the world, if only for the pun, and truly the greatest song that Havoc had ever heard in his life.

This song gave him a new reason to enjoy the rain. It brought joy in his life that he didn't think possible. Not only did he legitimately like the song, but it gave him such a kick to see Mustang seethe silently whenever it came on the radio. He'd found it out by mistake when the song played on the radio while Mustang was driving. The man had violently jabbed the dial to change to station. When Havoc played it experimentally when he was driving, his commanding officer's reaction had alone convinced Havoc to make a habit of it.

Not only did Mustang seem to loathe the song, but Havoc had realized that Hawkeye loved it. She had a soft spot for any Adele songs, he'd found, but the fact that she liked this one made things even better. The third time Havoc had played the song, Mustang had actually started to ask rather demandingly to change the song, when he'd stopped himself. Havoc knew it wasn't because of the rule that he himself had created, but because he'd heard Hawkeye quietly singing the song to herself as she gazed out the window.

And that was where Mustang's true weakness lied. He hated the song, but he was loathed to do anything that might cause Hawkeye to be disappointed. Havoc loved it. He could almost laugh evilly.

Instead, he did something even better. He sang as loudly and obnoxiously as possible. Havoc knew that he was, by no means, a good singer. He was decent when it came to some country songs, but his voice hadn't been made for powerful ballads by any means. But what he lacked in talent he made up for with extreme enthusiasm. His energy and emotion even managed to sweep Fuery into singing loudly and he spotted Hawkeye smiling as she sang a lot quieter.

With one hand on the steering wheel, Havoc sang his heart out to the song, pouring every bit of emotion into the chorus that he had in his soul. The other hand he waved about and made motions, like he couldn't help himself. And really, he couldn't. The sour look on Mustang's face was just too delicious to not savor. He sat there, arms folded tightly across his chest, eyes hooded and dark, shoulders hunched. It was too perfect. "I set fire to the rain!" Havoc crooned, clenching his free hand into a fist. "Watched it pour as I touched your face!"

And here, he took special liberty with his power, smacking his hand against Mustang's face and patting him. The man just sat there and took it, grinding his teeth furiously. How Havoc didn't burst out into laughter was beyond him and he could only thank his expertise in field ops and going undercover.

When the ending came and the song began to crescendo, Havoc went all out, "oohing" and swaying in his seat. Breda had joined in by now, having admitted that she was an excellent artist despite not being his taste. Really, this song was like a team building experience, so Mustang should've been grateful that his team felt comfortable enough with each other to be silly like this and not get embarrassed. And it was the most open and vulnerable that Hawkeye allowed herself to be most of the time. Honestly, Havoc wasn't just playing this song for himself; he was playing it for Hawkeye; he was playing it for the team.

And okay, yeah, he was playing it with the specific intent to get under Mustang's skin. He was lucky that Fullmetal hadn't figured this out yet and only Havoc was aware of this song's powers over him.

They reached their destination shortly after the song ended. Mustang stormed out of the car, but then halted to fix his jacket and hat, gathering himself together. He didn't want to come off like an angry asshole to the MPs that were already on site. As Havoc stepped out of the car and took his place under an awning, Mustang cast him a sideways glare. "You certainly do like your ballads, Second Lieutenant."

Havoc only smiled back. "What can I say? I'm a sucker for strong women. Wouldn't you agree, sir?"

Mustang's eyes narrowed at him like a warning, but then his eyes drifted to Hawkeye as she pulled open an umbrella for him. He took a breath and then walked away, leaving Havoc intact. He caught eyes with Hawkeye though and his grin broadened when she gave him a knowing smile. Rainy days were truly a blessing.


	69. Are You Satisfied?

**Author's Notes:** I bet Riza would like Garbage, **Lin**! And Havoc would torture Roy with song as well. Oh, yes, Roy would jam to that song, **ssadropout**. And I had trouble figuring out Breda at first, but thought rap would be a great choice. Everyone thinks he's slow and kind of dumb, but then picture him rapping to all the words like it's nothing. It's a great mental picture. As for this drabble, it's one of my personal favorites. I wrote it for stupidsexymustang (check her stuff out!) because we are both so weak for Havolina. I wanted to write about Roy and Riza at a wedding and most fanfics I've seen usually write Ed and Winry's wedding, but I wanted to do something different.

* * *

 _69\. Are You Satisfied?_

* * *

"And now, it's time for the newlyweds to have their first dance as husband and wife!"

Riza looked at the beaming couple standing in front of them and couldn't help but smile back in return. Who would have thought that this day would come? She'd seen what was between them a mile away, but there had been so many bumps in the road, so many arguments, so many sudden turns and dead ends that even she'd worried that they might not have their day. But now it had come, their day and theirs alone, and she could not be any happier for the two of them.

Many people might have been surprised, but Riza had not been shocked in the slightest when she'd witnessed Jean Havoc bend down on one knee and ask Rebecca Catalina to marry him right when the clock struck midnight on New Year's Day.

Six months later, they were finally celebrating their wedding and she'd never seen either of them look so happy. Havoc hadn't once smoked a cigarette yet, as if he'd forgotten about them completely in the midst of things, and Rebecca was doing her best to hug everyone she could while never letting go of her husband's hand. The whole affair had been relatively small, but still beautiful and lovely. Although he would never tell Rebecca this, Havoc had worked so many overtime hours so that they could afford the wedding she'd always dreamed of.

Looking back on the man that she'd worked with for so many years, Riza sighed contently. Havoc had turned into something of a brother to her, along with being a close friend. She'd watched him struggle hopelessly with crushes and bouts of insecurity when he went through dry patches; he'd fought with their superior officer over stolen girlfriends; he'd moaned that he would never fall in love.

And he'd done this all the while tiptoeing around Rebecca. When they'd finally got together, Roy had moved them to Central shortly after, and they'd been forced to break up. It hadn't been a good one. Riza had been stuck watching as both her friends suffered for it, even though she knew why Roy had done what he'd did. Havoc was an incredible soldier and a loyal subordinate. There hadn't been time for romance, not when the end of the world became imminent. She'd had to see one of her closest friends try to fight alone with the loss of his ability to walk; she held her best friend while the other woman cried because of the way Havoc had ended things, how she couldn't be there for him when she wanted to be, how much she hated Colonel Roy Mustang.

Needless to say, even Riza had formed some sort of resentment towards Roy in that moment, if only because she'd hated seeing two people she cared about greatly hurt so much because they had been forced apart. It hadn't been his fault though. And in the end, because of him and his fight for Amestris, Havoc and Rebecca had been brought back together. Hell, after a rough argument, she'd even consented to Roy being the best man, though she proclaimed to only agree to it because he had, in a way, helped them reunite with one another and he had helped Havoc regain his legs.

Glancing over to her right, Riza caught Roy leaning against a pillar as he watched his subordinate dance with his wife. Roy looked terribly handsome in his suit, of course, as he always did – the man knew how to dress – but she noticed that he'd toned down his normal flamboyance when it came to his dress. He didn't want to outshine Havoc in any way. His hair was slicked back, as it usually was when he dressed up, but he was wearing a rather plain black suit to match the rest of the groomsmen.

What she noticed the most though was the soft, wistful expression on Roy's face. It was Havoc dancing that did the trick, she knew. A little over two years had passed since the accident that caused Havoc to be paralyzed from the waist down, something that Roy still had trouble forgiving himself over. The idea that one day Havoc would be able to dance at his own wedding had been little more than a pipedream, and yet there he was on the dance floor, forehead pressed against Rebecca's as she stood on her tiptoes, swaying around with nimble ease. It was like he'd never lost his ability to walk in the first place, though she knew that he'd gone through extensive physical therapy – and a considerable amount of dance lessons.

"Do you know how many lessons he dragged me to under the guise of going out for drinks?" Roy asked, never taking his eyes away from the dancing couple. "He was a deplorable dancer. Absolutely no rhythm."

Riza could imagine Havoc tripping over his own feet like a newborn foal. It was an amusing mental picture and far from the truth now as he gracefully spun his wife around the dance floor. Rebecca was glowing. She had never been an excellent dancer either, though she hadn't been terrible. Even though she never once looked away from her husband, however, she never missed a beat, seemingly gliding more than dancing.

The song came to an end and everyone clapped cheerfully. From behind them, Breda made a loud whooping sound. Rebecca smirked in the man's direction as Havoc proudly pulled her against him. The next song that came on was also slow, melodic in nature, and its familiarity gently tugged at Riza's memory. A few seconds later, she recognized the song for what it was and smiled to herself. It was an old song that she used to listen to on her mother's old records. She'd play it on repeat in the study while she and Roy did their homework with her humming along to each note.

The last time she'd heard this song had been when she was still at home, the day Roy had left for the Academy. She'd lain down on the floor, its sweetly sad notes lilting in the air and filling her to fullness, until she couldn't take it anymore and she'd stopped the stenograph. She put the record and the machines away, never to listen to it again, never mentioned it – until now. It felt strange to hear it now at the wedding of her closest friends', but it didn't hurt like she'd imagined that it might. Instead, the music felt more like the caress of an old lover that she'd thought she had forgotten.

A gloved hand held out in front of her caught Riza's attention, and she drew her eyes from the hand and up the arm to look into Roy's smiling yet unreadable face. "What do you say we show them what dancing is really like?" he asked her.

Riza blinked, arms wrapped around herself protectively, and realized that she didn't know what she was supposed to say. The only response she could muster was something proper and closed off. "I'm not sure if that would be appropriate, sir."

"We're the best man and the maid of honor," Roy reasoned, "so technically this dance is meant for us."

Warmth blossomed in her chest. It was only appropriate that they would dance together to this song and she knew in her heart that Roy was the only person she wanted to dance with in this moment. She smiled, a little shyer than she wanted, and took his hand, allowing him to pull her onto the dance floor. A few other couples followed at their action, but Riza didn't notice them. All she could do was stare back at Roy as they took their stance, his left hand on her hip and his right holding her hand.

Riza tried to steady her breathing. "I'm afraid it's been a long time since I've danced."

"Don't worry. Don't think. Just feel." Roy looked and sounded so confident, but she thought that she could detect a slight tremor in his grip on her, like he too was afraid of how close they were in this moment. "We'll do this like we do everything else. I lead; you follow."

And led her he did.

As with most things in his life, Roy was a graceful dancer. They danced together around the room, sliding in between other dancing couples like water. He kept their movements slow and delicate, but her heart drummed powerfully in her chest as if she was running. Their eyes never left one another's even as they moved together, perfect and in sync like they were in everything else. He was right. She didn't need to think in order to know where he was going or what to do. She felt his thoughts in his hold on her, saw his words in the look of his dark eyes, knew everything between them with each measured step.

There could have been a thousand people around them, and Riza never would've seen them. She wouldn't have been able to look away from the intense gaze that Roy captured her with.

An almost imperceptible smile on his face, but one that she had become so familiar with, he pulled her closer to him as they spun around, so that she was against his chest, no room for misinterpretation between them. She thought that she could feel his heartbeat matching hers. A small voice in the back of her mind told her to pull away, warned her that this was beyond inappropriate even though it was just one dance, but it faded away as Roy's gaze turned softer, as if he knew what she was thinking. He was asking her not to leave him. She smiled back, squeezing his hand gripping hers, and never stopped moving with him.

It was an old dance and song routine, but it was theirs. Riza thought that she should want nothing more than to be lost in this moment, but Roy's touch kept her grounded to the present. There was no losing herself when he was as focused on her as he was, like she was the only one in the world. How could anyone handle being under a gaze like that for long? She felt like she was on fire – and yet she never wanted it to end – and that was a dangerous feeling indeed.

When the song finally came to an end, a painful pang resounded in Riza's heart as Roy began to pull away from her. For a wild moment, she went to grip him tighter, but then hesitated. She knew that she would have to let go of him eventually, but she didn't want to just yet.

"Thank you for the dance," Roy told her quietly. Though his grip on her hand slackened, he didn't let go of her yet and he didn't look away. His thumb rubbed the back of her hand, the simple action telling her everything that he couldn't say aloud to her.

Riza was returned to the moment when Havoc and Rebecca swung into view. They were still wrapped up in each other's arms; however, they were no longer staring lovingly at one another, their attention turned to the only still couple on the dance floor. While Rebecca wore a proud look, Havoc's smirk was positively far too knowing.

Roy lazily turned his eyes onto his cheeky subordinate. "Are you satisfied?" At first glance, Roy would appear to be completely indifferent, his face and body relaxed, but Riza could feel the tautness of his hold on himself, like it was taking everything in him to appear not to be affected.

"I don't know," Havoc responded. He glanced down at his wife. "What do you think, darlin'?"

Rebecca hummed thoughtfully. "I think a few more dances are in order. I don't think everyone in Amestris caught it."

The newlywed couple snickered with each other. Havoc tipped an invisible hat to Roy before pulling Rebecca back into a new swirling dance, her laughter leaving a bright trail behind her.

Riza tilted her head to look up at Roy. "The song…"

Roy nearly blushed under her gaze, but instead glanced away from her and cleared his throat. "It's a good song to dance to, wasn't it? Has a familiar feel to it."

She knew what he meant. It was an old song and she hadn't heard it in years, but it was the type of dance that she would never be able to forget. There were some things that couldn't be unlearned. The dance that played out between them every day was something she had learned to grudgingly understand and respect, but with one simple song, she was reminded that she could love it too, in her own way.

"Another dance, sir?" Riza asked suddenly. When Roy blinked at her in surprise, clearly caught off guard with her outright unwillingness to let him go, she almost laughed. "I don't think I'm satisfied quite yet. It's been a long time since I've danced. I'd forgotten how much fun it was. And this is a time to celebrate, isn't it?"

"Why, I believe you're correct, Captain." The expression on Roy's face was mildly pleased, but she could feel in his touch that he was relieved. He hadn't wanted to let go of her either. She knew, as he pulled her close to him and they moved together as one to the music, no amount of dances could satisfy him, but that was something that she was familiar with too. Roy Mustang was a man that always sought for more, and when it came to her, he could never nearly get enough. The truth was, she understood that feeling all too well, and for this one night, she believed that they could indulge themselves a little.


	70. Giddiness

**Author's Notes:** This one is so damn cheesy, but it sparked some drabbles in the future connected to this one. I don't know what my headcanon for this is, to be honest, but once it hit me, I had to write it and now I've been overtaken with the idea. (This is my one true weakness.)

* * *

 _70\. Giddiness_

* * *

It takes over thirty four years of his life for him to feel this overwhelming emotion of excitement, but once he does, Roy doesn't know that he'll ever be able to come down. Maybe that's why he's never felt like this before, not when his succeeded at his first transmutation, not when he kissed Riza for the first time when they were just teenagers, not when he mastered flame alchemy on his own, not when his eyesight was returned to him, not even when he and Riza crashed together for the first time after so many years and he felt like his life was opening up before him. No, this is something else entirely, and it's almost too much, but he never wants to let it go.

Roy has never felt so utterly…giddy before, like a child in a candy store, and it's absolutely astonishing to him that this is the first time in his life that he has felt this way.

Standing in front of him, Riza sighs tiredly, though there is a good-natured smile on her face as she looks down on him, and runs her fingers through his already messy dark hair. "There really isn't much to see or feel yet, you know." She doesn't tug on his hair to pull him up though and keeps her hand on him, centering him and herself.

Kneeling before her, much in the way as if he is worshiping her, Roy doesn't look up. Instead, he remains solely focused on her middle, eyes so focused that it's like he can see right through the blue material of her military uniform. She's right, of course. As she stands still under the grasp of his hands on her hips and his wide-eyed stare, Riza looks no different. Her feminine body is hidden under her uniform, impeccable as usual, and it's the same shape as it's been for the better part of her time in the military, slim and lithe due to consistent exercise and training. And yet…

It doesn't matter if she looks like she's the same on the outside, not when he knows that she's somehow been changed on the inside. He rubs absentminded circles on her hip with his thumb as he gazes reverently at her middle, seemingly calm, but he feels a torrential bubble of giddiness swell inside of his chest. His mind leaps to Maes Hughes, and he can almost curse that man for describing how he felt when he was given the same news because he was absolutely correct and wrong at the same time. There are no words that can describe all of the emotions swirling around in his mind right now.

Finally, Roy drags his eyes up to the woman before him. "Are you sure?"

Instead of scoffing at him for not believing her, Riza nods her head, the expression on her face almost shy. Her hand in his hand slides down so that it's resting against his cheek. "Knox confirmed it."

"I can't believe that moody curmudgeon knew before me," Roy grumps, though he isn't really angry about it. There honestly isn't any room left in his body or soul for anger, not when it feels like he's overflowing with unabashed glee.

"I wanted to be absolutely positive before I told you," Riza explains.

It makes perfect sense. A lot has befallen the General in the past few months, his duties and jobs overtaking most of his life. It has been quite a stressful time for everyone involved, but especially for the man near the top. She wouldn't want him to have yet another thing to worry about on his mind, even if it is something like this. He hates the fact that she did this all on her own and distantly knows that this will cause complications in the near future, but in this moment, right now, he doesn't care about any of that. All he cares is that he knows and he's here with her now.

Tightening his grip on her slightly, Roy pulls himself to his feet, never letting go of her, and pulls her closer to him so that their chests are pressed together. To think, two years ago, he could barely bring himself to touch her in fear that he would cross their carefully drawn lines. He was correct in his fears. Once they did find themselves with one another, he could never let her go again. Sharp memories of her reaching out to him come back to him now: her hands on his face, her lips parted slightly as she steadied her breathing, the heat in her amber eyes that seared him more than his own flames ever could. Now they have this – a new twist in their lives that he never could have anticipated, and he can't be any happier. He just can't.

"How far along?" Roy asks as he slides his arms around her, locking her in place against him.

"Approximately two months."

"Then we have a little time to figure something out," Roy says as he nuzzles his face in the crook of her neck that her unbuttoned collar allows him purchase. Her hair, having been mostly grown out again, falls against his face and tickles his nose. He loves this spot on her, even despite the faded scar that they both know marks her as his. It took him a lot of time to get over the scars that mar her because of him, but now they remind him that she is alive and warm under his touch.

Riza hums contently and rests against him. She doesn't feel any different in his arms, but he knows that she will soon enough and that excites him even more. How could Hughes of all people have possibly failed in describing this moment? Roy cannot possibly wrap his mind about what is going on and how he feels.

"This will…complicate matters," Riza says in a quiet voice. She's strong, the strongest person he knows, but he can tell that she's a little scared as well. This is not something either of them expected.

For a long time, Roy was convinced that he never even wanted it and then afterwards he was positive that he didn't deserve it – that his adamant denial had been a cover for his shame. Denying that he wanted this was easier than admitting that he was denying himself of it out of guilt. Both of them put it out of their mind, like they couldn't even consider it, and they never talked about it. There was so much else to do before they could allow themselves to be selfish. And honestly, both of them were so broken, just barely making one whole person together, that they weren't sure if they should take this step anyways.

Now that it is here though, now that it is right before him, Roy knows in his heart that he has never wanted something more, not even to learn flame alchemy. This woman right here is all that he wants. And he believes in this moment that it is right – that the two of them who brought so much death could also bring life. Maybe it isn't fair, but then he's learned a lot of things about fairness from Truth since the Promised Day. It might be selfish, but it doesn't matter. He's gotten more than what he deserves already, but he figures that he's also had to sacrifice a lot of time with Riza in order to have this moment now.

"I don't care," Roy tells her forcefully, his words vibrating through her skin. She stills against him and he pulls his head back so that he can look her in the eyes. She's scared, but she's also exultant and stunned, the rush of emotions too high for even her to hide. He presses his forehead against hers and closes his eyes. "I don't care."

Not here, not now, not with her. To hell with the rest of them. To hell with whatever is standing in their way. Roy has learned in his thirty four years of living that he won't let anything hold him back and that Riza will help him take down anything that blocks his goals. He doesn't care about any of that because right now all he cares about is the woman in his arms, the woman that he loves, the woman that has been with him every step of the way. He refuses to be concerned about anything, not when he's happier than he's ever been in his life.

He has worn a lot of names in his life. Roy Mustang, General of Amestris, the Flame Alchemist, the Hero of Ishval, Colonel Bastard, the victor of the Promised Day, alchemy apprentice, orphaned boy, _father_.

The last title is what halts his breath the most and blows his mind. To think that he could actually hold it one day, that it could be his. It humbles him more than anything else. And he's just entirely too happy to worry about anything that it's Riza that he's able to share this with because she is the only woman that he has ever loved and the only one he trusts to do this with. He knows that she's scared – that she's fearful that someone whose hands has taken so many lives shouldn't be given the chance to hold life – but he will be with her every step of the way, just as she has been with him. It's only fair, after all.


	71. Premonition

**Author's Notes:** It's been a hellish few days. 11 hour shifts and I've got a sinus infection, hence why I've been slacking on posting these. I just haven't had the energy. I just got home from work and figured I'd post this before I crash and then get right back up for work. Thanks for the follows, favorites, and reviews!

* * *

 _71\. Premonition_

* * *

She's startled when it hits her randomly one summer day. She is only sixteen. She doesn't know any better than this. The furthest she ever thinks ahead is the coming school year, wondering how she will be able to balance all of her chores on top of schoolwork and any free time that she might be able to squeeze in. She's a child still in many respects, sheltered away from the harsh realities world in her childhood home and yet burdened by loss and responsibilities that make even adults balk.

She can still dream though. And when she realizes that her dreams are no longer of her alone, she's surprised that she was taken so off guard. To see that another person has taken a place in her dreams next to her, fuzzy and unsure at first, only to claim a spot as their own so solidly that he seems like the most realist part of her dreams, even more real than her sometimes.

It's not fair, she thinks at first. It wasn't her decision to allow this boy into her life, and yet he barged in unannounced and had the audacity to work his way into her world. Now she can't imagine a future without him in it, even though they're just kids in the end. It's a powerful thought, one that she tries not to think about. Instead, she keeps her eyes trained on the grass as she walks up a hill, forcing him out of her mind so that she can focus on other things.

Her thoughts about what adulthood is like come to her as abstract views, confusing and daunting yet plain as well. She wants to leave, but she hasn't the faintest clue where she'd go or even how. Then she pictures him and his knowledge of the outside world, and it's so reasonable that he would be a part of helping her escape. Always, her thoughts about the future lead back to him, and it's frustrating to say the least. He's the brightest part of her life these days, but even that is scary if she thinks about it too much.

"It looks fantastic up here. Hurry up, Riza!"

She raises her eyes and blinks against the sun beaming down on here. But her eyes latch onto him immediately, a tall, dark shape standing with the backdrop of the light. Roy stands up straight as he gazes at the view at the top of the hill, one hand perched over his eyes to shield them from the sun, the other on his hip.

He has grown nearly half a foot over the summer, his clothes unable to keep up with him, and he's had to stick with hastily self-tailored shorts until his foster mother sends him more money from Central. Even though he has to tug on his shirts to keep them from rising up, it's his shoes that are mostly the problem, and he's taken to walking barefoot or in socks a lot of the time. Luckily for him, the countryside they live in is filled with plenty of meadows and soft grass. As a sign of companionship, she has followed him in walking barefoot during their short journey today.

When Roy turns around to look down at her, dropping his hand to his side, Riza is taken aback and nearly halts. There is nothing different about him really. He's grown taller, yes, and filled out his clothes more, his shoulders and chest becoming broader, his face less aggravated by puberty, but there is something else… It's something that she can't describe. He's still giving her the same lopsided grin that she's come to recognize as his alone and she spots the brightness of his dark eyes that seems to shine whenever he looks at her or spots something particularly interesting. There is nothing in him now that suggests something has changed.

And yet looking up at him now, standing on top of the hill with the sunlight shining behind him, Riza sees something in Roy that feels all too much like a premonition.

For a moment, she doesn't see the boy that she has come to trust and know in her heart, the boy who studies alchemy under her father, sneaks treats to her from the village, blathers about Central and how he wants to travel Amestris, the boy that slacks off in his studies by trying to goad her into doing things that could possibly get them in trouble. Instead, she sees a man – a man that will change the world as she knows it. She sees it in the set of his shoulders that will carry the weight of any burden he claims responsibility for; she sees it his eyes, focused now on her, but one day on looking forward to his goals and dreams; she sees it in the hand that he holds out for her to help her up the rest of the way, a hand that she so desperately wants to hold onto for hours but knows that she can't. She sees the cut of a man that has changed her life so much already and yet has so much more to do.

Riza knows in her heart that while she can't truly see the future, she can somehow see it in him. Roy isn't just a part of her life; he's a part of her future too. She doesn't want it to be any other way. She doesn't know if that's selfish or not, seeing as how she doesn't even know if he will ever want to see her again after he leaves her father's apprenticeship, but for some reason, the thought doesn't worry her. As she takes hold of his hand, his grip on her is reassuring, strong but not painful, and when she locks eyes with him, he doesn't look away, even as he looks at her like he's still looking at the beautiful view on the hilltop.

He's become more open with her in the past few weeks, something she's not sure of. She thinks that it signals that a change is coming. She doesn't think he realizes what he's doing. Even though there are things on his mind that he hasn't told her, even though something is coming that will change them and rip them out of this dreamy sweet haze, he doesn't have to. She can see it coming already, even if he can't.

"I know I'm still a city boy and all," Roy says, "but you certainly can't get a view like this in Central."

Riza nods her head in response. It is a lovely view of the landscape. A mile outside of town on top the largest hill in the area, they can see almost everything for miles away. There's the village to the north and then the house to the east. Fields where crops have been planted rise out, sweeping through farms, and spots of animals perusing the grass. There are flowers and birds and the wind is blowing just right. A few clouds pepper the sky, though only offering brief spots of shade for now. It's the perfect day. Still, she's never been outside of here, so she doesn't know how it compares to any other view.

As if sensing her thoughts, Roy tugs on her hand, having not let go of her yet, and brings her attention back to him. "Maybe… Maybe next time I visit Central, you can come with me." He sounds almost shy, a hint of pinkness in his cheeks, but he doesn't look away from her out of embarrassment. Riza looks up at him in shock and a little bit of hopefulness, but she doesn't want to come off as too eager. She would love to go, but it's not her that they'd have to worry about. "I'm sure I could convince your father to let you go. We could say that it's under the pretense of you looking at schools since you'll be graduating soon."

"That would be…" Riza smiles bashfully. "That would be lovely."

"Yeah." Roy nods his head in agreement and looks back to the sights before them. "Yeah, I can take you there, I promise."

A few months later, when Roy is kicked out for his decision to join the military and he leaves her alone at the train station with promises of writing her, of coming to see her, of taking her away, Riza recalls the vision she saw of him on top of the hill. She chides herself for getting her hopes up, for wrapping her dreams around a boy, but she still feels disheartened when she walks back to a haunted house with grief and determination soaking in her bones. Only she can get herself out of here.

She does eventually. Maybe it has to do with Roy's return and his talks of his dreams about the future. He leaves for the military and eventually she leaves as well, following him indirectly. She goes to the Military Academy and she is sent to Ishval and she finds him there, on top of that hill, the hot Ishvallan sun shining behind him like a beacon, reminding her painfully of that day all those years ago that feels more like a dream than the ones he used to talk about.

In the end though, the promise he made to her all those years ago seemingly forgotten amidst the nightmares that they faced together, Roy does take Riza to Central, as his personal adjutant and not his childhood friend. They sit on the train next to each other, him staring out the window and her reading a book, when she feels a tug on her hand. She looks up curiously, but notes that Roy is still staring out the window, even though his hand is lying just a few centimeters away from hers on the seats.

"I hope I get an office with a good view," he says.

To anyone else, it would sound like Roy was lazily voicing his opinions out loud to himself. To Riza, she knows exactly what he means to tell her and she allows a very small smile to grace her face before looking back down at her book. It would seem as if her premonition on that hill was correct, and she is determined to help him fulfill both his dreams and hers. It would also appear as if he didn't forget his promise to her.


	72. Drawing a Boundary Line

**Author's Notes:** I'm not entirely sure why this one came out so dark, but I'm going to blame it on me marathoning Psycho Pass. I suppose it's on the same level as the darkest parts of FMA, but I would still like to give a warning out for dark themes, violence, and a difficult subject matter. I honestly didn't mean for it to turn out this way, but the story took a life of its own. Thank you for reading.

* * *

 _72\. Drawing a Boundary Line_

* * *

The line between them has been there for so long that Roy can't remember a time when it wasn't. Whether it was imposed by her father and his teacher, the residuals of their childhood and memory of unspoken rules, the unforgiving sun and eyes of Ishval, and then later the military they both willingly joined, the boundary line that separates Roy from Riza has been there, tantalizing and hazy. It's like a wall erected between the two of them, one that he can never climb over nor break down.

For the most part, he is able to ignore it. They have become a well-oiled machine over the years, bonded through shared experiences that no one can understand and yet also understanding of the fact that they can never be more than what they already are. Roy cannot help but blame himself for that, even though she can tell him with a simple look in her eyes not to do so. The familiarity that rests between them makes them an excellent team, a cut above the rest, and yet it wounds them at the same time.

It was more difficult in the beginning. Ishval was a time outside of time itself and he could not bring himself to her even if he tried. Once they were out of war though, back in the comfort of headquarters and away from the constant threat of violence, it was all too easy to fall back into a lull, out of both desperation to forget and the distance that time allowed them. It brought all the difficulties that his familiarity with her caused to a roaring head and he had to physically force himself down at times.

Riza never once flinched when a gun was discharged, but sometimes claps of thunder would make her jump. In response, more than a few times, Roy would find himself rising out of his chair, ready to put a comforting hand on her shoulder, only to halt himself. He couldn't do that, even if he could do it under the guise of helping a former comrade in war. She'd be resentful towards the action because she wouldn't be allowed to take comfort in it and then upset with herself for feeling that way in the first place.

And then there were times when their job got the best of them. Riza was resolute in her stoic nature, but not even she could reign in her emotions at times. They were too fresh from battle. However, because they were such a fledgling crew and Roy was rising so fast, they were given a lot of terrible assignments by disgruntled Generals that wanted to see him knocked down a peg or two. He can still recall with horrible clarity their eighth assignment, if only because it made the line drawn between them so painfully clear that he'd nearly lost control of his temper.

The sky was blanketed with dark grey clouds, the threat of rain imminent as low thunder rolled over them. A call had come in earlier, one that had had them all on the edge of their seats. Roy hadn't been pleased to be given the assignment, but he couldn't say no, even when the General in command made some smug comment that this would determine whether or not Roy and the men under him were cut for the job. Public disturbances were not one of his favorite things to check out, if only because they reminded him of how they'd failed so horribly in Ishval, but especially not when the initial reports were like this.

Riza was driving, sitting stiffly in her seat as she gazed out the window. Her knuckles were white on the steering wheel. It wasn't the storm coming in that was bothering her though. When Roy had explained what they were being sent out to do, she'd turned a pale sheet of white. The only other two men on their slowly growing team had reacted in their own ways. Normally chatty Jean Havoc had gone quiet in the back and a typically smug Heymans Breda wore a stony expression as he tapped a finger on his leg.

As the car came to a halt near the military police tape that had sectioned one house in particular away from the rest of the block, Roy turned his attention to his men in the vehicle. "Whatever happens, we must remain professional and calm, even if it appears looking detached. We can't afford to muck this up with emotions. The higher ups are pretty much looking for any excuse to write us off."

"Yes, sir," his three subordinates responded in unison.

Havoc and Breda step out of the car first and shut the doors with resounding slams. Roy swung his attention back to Riza as she took the keys out of the ignition. Her hand was shaking imperceptibly, but he could see that she was doing the best she could to lock up any emotions. He wasn't used to seeing her like this, so unraveled, but he also alone knew that this case was going to hit her the hardest.

Roy pictured her molding the dirt over a dead Ishvallan child's grave, saw her asking him to do the impossible. This would be a testament to how far she had come along. He couldn't burn her guilt away again after this. All he wanted to do was reach over and take her hands in his so that he could still her, but the moment he moved and opened his mouth, Riza looked over to give him a faint, reassuring smile.

It flickered on her face though, only making his stomach roil even more, and he let her hold it together on her own. Besides, he was her commanding officer now, not her childhood friend.

The two of them got out and walked past the road blocks and under the tape with her just two steps behind him as usual. He had become used to her presence behind him over the past few months, but it was still strange. She was his silent protector when it came to anything though, a defense mechanism that he could fall back on when he felt like he was faltering. He felt selfish taking that sort of comfort from her right now when she might need it herself, but there was nothing else that he could do.

"Lieutenant Colonel Mustang, sir!" an unknown officer greeted with a salute when Roy stepped up. "Sergeant Wilson."

"At ease, Sergeant," Roy replied. "Status report?"

Wilson fumbled here, his hand falling to his side and his eyes casting an uncomfortable swoop around the area. He seemed particularly nervous about Riza behind him. However, when Roy also looked around, he saw that the other military officers in the area appeared equally uncomfortable and one looked even ill. That did not bode well. Something dropped in the pit of his stomach when Wilson returned his gaze back to him, looking a little hollow than anything else. Roy recognized that look: it was the look of a man trying to distance himself from something horrible.

"Second Lieutenant Gregory and I were called onto the scene after there was a call of a possible physical altercation and screams coming from inside the building," Wilson began, his voice a little shaky. He was trying to keep his tone as neutral as possible, but he couldn't quite shake the emotion out of it. "There had been two other disturbances on record filed by the owner of the house, a Vivian Dowry, on her estranged husband, Louis Dowry. They've apparently been separated for two weeks. The past reports mentioned Mr. Dowry's history of violence and that we were to proceed with caution since he also had been dishonorably discharged from the military shortly after returning from Ishval."

Roy didn't think that he could feel any worse about the situation, but the mention of Dowry's past in Ishval nearly brought tremors to his own hands. He shoved them into his pockets and nodded his head to let Wilson know to continue. The man didn't seem to want to, but had no other choice, having been first on the scene. He was young with sandy blonde hair and wide, shell-shocked blue eyes. Most likely, he'd been too young to serve in Ishval and didn't know exactly what the sort of hell they were dealing with here.

"When we arrived, everything seemed quiet. We knocked on the door and there was no response. We thought maybe that they had the radio on too loud or something." Wilson blinked rapidly and then looked down at the ground, unable to contain himself any longer. "That was when we heard the screams…"

Behind him, he could feel Riza stiffen, but that was the only indication that this story was affecting her. Both of them had known that they would be receiving calls like this in the future. Not everyone had come out of Ishval entirely intact. They certainly hadn't, but though worse for wear, they'd forced themselves to pull together and do something with their lives, if only to make up for what they had done. Others hadn't been so lucky. Many of the State Alchemists that Roy had served alongside threw away their titles and pocket watches. Some soldiers barely made it a week before cutting things short. A few people left the military altogether.

Then there were the unfortunate and awful ones that couldn't leave the war and carried it with them in ways that resulted in them being a time bomb. There was nothing to be done. There was no sort of help for them just yet besides talking and that could only do so much. Roy had found himself lost to confusing bouts where he didn't know where he was and he knew that Riza sometimes woke thinking that she was still in Ishval, even months after everything had passed. Try as they might, only time could tell if they were in the clear. It wasn't right – there should have been something to protect the men and women that served in war – but there wasn't and so many people had felt like they were left on their own to survive at home.

"If you could continue, Sergeant," Riza said, her voice the steadiest thing that he had ever heard. It was enough to shake Roy out of his reverie, but Wilson sank in front of them.

"When it became apparent that no one inside was responding to our demands to open the door, we entered through force. Gregory was the first one inside, and he…" Wilson gulped down a lump in his throat and glanced back at the man that had a hand pressed against a wall and looked close to getting sick. Clearly, Gregory had not responded well to what he'd seen. "Gregory was incapacitated, so I took action. Dowry was on top of his ex-wife, strangling her. She looked…she looked like hell. I remember thinking her lips were blue. I shouted at him to stop, but Dowry wouldn't listen. He was an animal. I didn't know what to do. I told him that I would shoot – I had a clear shot even though he was on top of her – but he wouldn't stop, and then I saw what threw Gregory off and I…"

At this, Wilson buried his face in his hands, clearly unable to continue. Another officer came up from behind and placed his hands on the younger man's shoulders as they began to shake. Roy could tell right away that despite the fact that he had joined the military, Wilson hadn't truly expected to shoot someone, at least not on the home front. Maybe if he was sent off to war, yes, but not in the city that he lived.

"I could've done something else," Wilson mumbled through the tears, shaking against the other soldier who seemed just as miserable. "I could've tackled him or something or talked with him more, but I…I…"

Roy placed a hand on the young man's back, causing him to still for a second, and nodded to the officer keeping hold of him. "Take him to the hospital. See that he gets checked. He's clearly in shock. I'll have to speak with him again later, but for right now, he needs medical attention."

"Yes, sir," the officer said before guiding Sergeant Wilson away from him.

Once the two men were out of sight, Roy glanced back at Riza and caught the worried look in her eyes. Maybe it wasn't as bad as it sounded, considering that the report had come from someone so young and inexperienced, but he knew that it was just hopeful thinking. He wasn't that much older than the Sergeant and had been forced to experience the horrors of Ishval at a young age. He realized suddenly that Riza was probably the same age as the man they'd just had to shuffle off to the hospital for a mental evaluation.

Havoc walked up to them, practically chewing on the cigarette in his mouth. It couldn't have tasted pleasant, but he didn't seem to notice. "Boss…"

"What does it look like in there?" Roy demanded grimly.

"I'm glad I skipped breakfast. It's…bad." Havoc's eyes flickered to Riza. "Maybe…"

"If you can handle it, then certainly I can," Riza snapped. "I've seen worse than you."

Havoc held up his hands in defense. "I meant no disrespect, Second Lieutenant."

Riza was still bristling beside him, but she nodded her head apologetically to let Havoc know that she wasn't mad at him, only at the situation. Now that Roy got a better look at his subordinate, he saw that Havoc looked more than a little green around the gills. The man was perpetually cheerful no matter what, but there wasn't a hint of a smile on his face. A frown looked strange on him. Still, Roy knew that he had to get this over with and so he waved a hand for Havoc to lead the way.

Nothing could have prepared Roy for what he saw inside.

Riza took a deep breath behind him, steeling herself against the sight, but Roy was too shocked to do anything but gape before him. The children… One couldn't have been more than three. The other was maybe around nine. Had been three – had been nine.

Roy had seen death before. He'd seen children's deaths. He'd seen them die right in front of him, whether because of a gun or because of his flames. It had been selfish, but Roy had always thought himself lucky that he never had to see what his flames did up close. He could stand back at a distance. In his mind, he knew that he had killed more than men, but as long as he didn't see anything outright, he could shield himself from the truth. If he didn't see it, he didn't have to think about it. That came after the war was over, when he came home to an empty house and thought of all the families whose homes and lives he'd destroyed.

But this was something different – so violent and right in front of him that he felt disconnected with reality. There couldn't be anyone in the world that was capable of something like this, certainly not a man that had once been in the military. They were just children. Two innocent kids that had done nothing to deserve this. The older one had probably just come home from school, ready to play with his younger sibling. There was a bouncy ball on the floor next to him. The youngest had a stuffed lamb toy in her hand, its white fur soaked in blood. Just a few hours ago, they'd been so full of life, so ready for the future…

"Sir." Riza's voice drifted in his mind. "It looks like they've been…"

Breda put a hand to his mouth. "Gregory still had some of his old military weapons."

Roy's hands trembled in his pockets. His hands were bare. He felt an itch to demand his ignition gloves from Riza, but he knew that she wouldn't give them to him while he was in this state. While everyone else appeared to be overwrought with emotion at the sight, even Riza, Roy's face was a blank slate, filled with absolutely nothing. That seemed to put Riza on edge even more though.

In confirmation of her concerns, when Roy turned to ask, "Where is he?" a bright light of fear shot in her eyes. For once, he ignored her. Havoc pointed to a room in the back and Roy swept out of the room, each of his steps careful as he measured his breathing.

However, when Roy spotted a man hunkered down on the bed, handcuffed behind his back and bleeding out of a gunshot wound in his shoulder, a violent red flooded his vision and the entire room spun. Years later, Roy will confess to not remembering crossing the room or grabbing Dowry by the front of his shirt. He doesn't remember the alarmed shout from the two officers guarding him or the way he'd snarled at them to back off. All he can remember is the wild faraway look in Dowry's eyes and the utter rage swirling inside of him. For a second, Roy thought he might not need his ignition gloves to produce fire.

"Lieutenant Colonel! Lieutenant Colonel! Sir!" Hands gripped at his shoulders, and Roy roughly shoved them away, growling at them to leave him be. All he wanted to do was throw this horrendous man to the dogs. Locking him up wasn't good enough. He thought, for a wild moment, that it would have been better if Sergeant Wilson had killed the man, even though it wasn't fair to wish for that burden to be placed on anyone. Well, seeing as how Wilson didn't do it, the least Roy could do was finish the job. "Mustang!"

Roy blinked and dragged his eyes back to face the horrified expression on Riza's face. She looked downright terrified. And it hit him in that moment that she was not afraid of what had happened in this house, of the awful murders and tragedy, but of him. She was terrified of _him_. There was fear in her eyes, but also pleading. He could not do this. If he went any further… She had one hand on his shoulders and the other at her side, near where her sidearm sat.

 _Please don't cross this line,_ her amber eyes begged.

Taking a shallow breath, Roy released Dowry and watched as the other man crumpled onto the bed and curled into himself to cry. The other two officers stood in the back of the room, stunned into silence. Havoc stood in the doorway behind Riza, and Roy instinctively knew that his subordinate would've backed up Riza in anything that happened. That was good.

Roy slackened under her hand. "Take him away," he ordered in a tired voice. "We can't question him when he's like this. He looks like he's on something. We'll have to wait for him to come down before we get any answers."

As the officers shuffled around him, Roy walked into the bathroom, flicking the light on so that he could gaze around the room. It seemed so normal, if a little dull. The sight of the children's toothbrushes caught his eyes though and he had to look away. All he wanted was a moment to gather himself again before he went back out and set to work. There was too much to be done. Dr. Knox would be arriving at any moment to deal with the bodies and he was going to be a viciously bitter hassle, if only out of self defense.

When he stepped back into the bedroom, the only other person in the room was Havoc, waiting for his superior officer to return. Roy nodded to the other man and then brushed past him out of the bedroom. There was a lot to be done – statements to be taken, photographs of the scene and evidence, a careful categorization of what had happened and how it had come about. A headache began to build in Roy's mind as he worked, but he refused to stop or let it affect him. He had to show that he was cut out for the job; he had to prove that nothing would shake him to the point of making him ineffective. There was too much riding on this for him to be weak.

It was nearly an hour later, after Knox had arrived, when Roy realized that he hadn't seen Riza in quite some time. He glanced around the room, noting her absence, and then stepped onto the front deck to see if she was talking to anyone outside, but there was no sign of her there either. When he walked back inside, a question in his eyes, Havoc jabbed a thumb towards the kitchen and then went back to his notepad.

There was no one in the kitchen when Roy walked inside, but then he noticed another door slightly ajar that led to the alley. Gently nudging it open, he peered outside and that was when he saw her. Riza was leaning face first against the wall, her forehead pressed up against the brick and both her hands covering up her mouth. Her eyes were closed, but that didn't stop the tears from leaking down her cheeks. She was still as could be, her body not shaking like Wilson's, but he could see her suffering.

The urge to pull her into his arms swelled inside of Roy painfully. He desperately wanted to hold her against him, stroke the back of her head, whisper words of comfort in her ear – but he also knew that he could do no such thing. It would be beyond inappropriate for behavior between a commanding officer and his adjutant. In that moment though, he didn't care. This was Riza, for god's sake. And she was hurting. He hadn't seen her like this since Ishval when she'd asked him to burn the alchemy array on her back. His chest ached and his hands began to tremble finally.

All he wanted to do was protect her and sooth her, but he couldn't do it. That would be crossing a line that they had so precariously constructed between the two of them.

Anger spilled in Roy in an attempt to cover up his own misery, the two emotions woven so closely together in his mind, but he squashed it down. She didn't need him losing control like that, not when she was holding herself together by a thread.

When he stepped completely into the alley, the door shut behind him, making a noise, and Riza jumped to attention, pulling away from the wall and dropping her hands to her side. Her eyes were only a little pink. "S-sir, I'm sorry. I stepped out for a moment, and I–" She wiped at her eyes with the sleeve of her jacket. "This is highly unprofessional of me. I'll do better in the future. I'm sorry for–"

"At ease, Second Lieutenant," Roy said gently. "It's understandable. This is an incredibly emotional situation. I would be more concerned if this _didn't_ bother you."

Taking a deep breath, Riza steeled herself for the onslaught of what was inside. "I'll return to my duties." When she went to walk past him and back into the house, Roy stopped her, placing a hand on her shoulder. He felt his heart jump into his throat. This was the most physical contact they'd had since the night he'd freed her from her burden. It was so simple, but it felt like altogether too much. He found her trembling under his hand. "Sir?"

"I'd like for you to stay outside and interview the neighbors," Roy told her. He saw her beginning to protest, but he shook his head. "This is not me being concerned with your capabilities to control yourself. I'm being practical here. The neighbors will take to you better than any of us. Quite frankly, they'll sympathize with you more. I need for them to feel comfortable talking."

It would have been easy for anyone else to miss the flash of relief in Riza's eyes, but Roy was not just anyone when it came to her. Both of them knew that. He pulled his hand away from her, as if physically hauling himself back over the line he'd dared to ignore, and she inclined her head briefly before walking out of the alley and to the front of the house.

Roy took a deep, shuddering breath, placing a hand against the wall to brace himself. He would be strong. She would be strong. They would all be strong, his team together. They'd get past this and prove all the higher ups wrong and maybe, just maybe, Roy could do something to prevent things like this. There had to be a way. There were so many lines that he couldn't cross, but this was the first time that he'd ever felt fury and anxiety over one. There had to be a way to fix that too. But how could he when they'd built it out of necessity in the first place?


	73. Parting

**Author's Notes:** Okay, so a head's up for these next two. They are connected. This is a continuation of the soulmate tattoo AU, but the next two are focused on Havolina with Royai in the background. Incidentally, I read the prompt to this correctly as "partying" and didn't realize it until I finished, so uh, yeah, I wrote the next one to make up for it. This is considered a prequel to Drabble 37 ("Match"), since that one did have Havolina in it, but can be read alone. Drabble 59 ("Gift") and Drabble 66 ("Pounding of the Heart") would be considered prequels to this one, but only for background information on the Royai soulmate tattoos. Happy reading!

* * *

 _73\. Parting_

* * *

In retrospect, Havoc probably could've done a better job when he met his soulmate for the first time, but it wasn't entirely his fault. It was Breda's birthday. And it was a well-known fact that, as his best friend and comrade in the Academy, it was Havoc's job to not only get Breda as sloshed as possible, but to also accompany him on the wild journey. At least, that was what he told himself when he geared up for the big night. It didn't help that Breda had a higher tolerance than him, but Havoc would be damned before he admitted something like that. He was too competitive.

And hey, it wasn't like he'd been expecting the love of his life to show up in the middle of him chugging his fifth beer during a beer chugging competition. Hawkeye had not warned him that she was bringing a friend. So really, if blame could be laid at anyone's feet, it was Hawkeye. Except that it was also thanks to her that Havoc met his soulmate, so there was thanks to be given as well.

Ah, soulmates were a hell of a thing.

Havoc had been almost twenty when his soulmate tattoo mark had appeared. He was nearing the end of his time at the military Academy, pulling latrine duty alongside Breda. The two of them had a healthy and friendly rivalry when it came to being the top student, although it had become apparent early on that Breda was the smarter of the two. According to their superior officers, what Havoc lacked with a smart brain, he made up tenfold with a smart mouth – and that mouth of his landed him in trouble quite a bit often.

All he'd been doing was scrubbing toilets, complaints under his breath about how they wouldn't even let him smoke while doing this and Breda commenting that any fire might cause an explosion with all the noxious fumes they were being forced to deal with because of him. Without warning, a burn zipped down his left bicep and he'd dropped the toilet brush and yelped in surprise. Breda had been so startled that he'd banged his head against the stall door while trying to figure out what was going on.

Havoc remembered staring down in shock at the swoopy, black words scrawled on his arm: _I hope not all men are like you._ What kind of woman said something like that? And that woman was going to be his soulmate? It'd take him a few hours to feel relief at finally receiving his soulmate mark, as most appeared at a younger age, but at the time, he'd been rather disgruntled. The first words his soulmate were going to say to him would be an insult to his character. Go figure he'd fall for a stubborn woman like that.

Meanwhile, Breda had thought it the most hilarious thing in the world. _"You get your soulmate tattoo mark while you're cleaning shit? I shudder to think of the implications,"_ he'd laughed.

Havoc still bristled at the thought to this day whenever he remembered Breda's words. He had a soulmate, and that was all that mattered. Later, after he was done with his punishment and had taken a long shower, he took a better look at the words tattooed on his skin. Each letter was exaggerated, all swirls and loops in its cursive writing. It was the definition of stereotypical feminine handwriting. In his not yet matured mind, he hoped that the woman the words belonged to would mirror her handwriting – soft yet all curves. But then the words themselves were biting and sharp. That was curious indeed.

Nearly five years after being branded by his soulmate mark, Havoc mostly put the words out of his mind. He'd stressed out about it at first, meeting girl after girl, only to realize that she wasn't the one. It had caused a lot of emotionally charged declarations and drunken shenanigans of swearing off women entirely. In time, actually thanks to some comforting words from Hawkeye, Havoc came to accept that he would meet his soulmate when he met her.

In the words of the First Lieutenant, "Just knowing that you have a soulmate should be a comfort in itself. There is someone out there that is only meant for you – and someone out there that you are only meant for. Maybe you needed to be shown your soulmate's first words earlier on so that you could grow into them."

Out of all the people on the team, Havoc honestly hadn't been expecting such a statement to come from her, but it had helped him immensely. The two of them had grown closer after that. He'd stopped being such an idiot when it came to talking to women whenever they went out, and he'd catch an approving smile from her. It did make him wonder about that brace on her arm and if she had a soulmate tattoo. People might have thought he was a fool, but he knew enough about people and his teammates to tell when one of them was talking from experience. He never questioned her on it though. Hawkeye was an intensively private person, and he respected her enough to leave it be.

Strangely enough, not only had Hawkeye helped him overcome his anxiety about never finding his soulmate, but she had been the one to help him find her in the first place.

The birthday celebration for Breda had been like any other, except they were older and pretending to be wiser. Beer chugging competitions didn't really help things, but they ignored all of that in favor of fun. Colonel Mustang probably would've joined them if it hadn't been for his fear that Hawkeye would get pissed at him. He'd stopped himself after three beers, proclaiming that at least one of them should be somewhat aware once the last of their party arrived.

A sudden shout from Breda and the man launching himself through their small circle interrupted the chugging competition. Havoc heard a woman squeal in surprise and then began to choke on his beer once he realized that Breda had actually thrown his arms around Hawkeye and pulled her into a bear hug that could only have been rivaled by someone from Briggs. Fuery was giggling while Falman was red-faced in embarrassment and Mustang wore an amused expression, which was lucky for Breda, because the other option would've been a very volatile, scowling Mustang (the man outright refused to admit that he was jealous). Havoc himself began to chuckle until he caught Hawkeye's bemused and frazzled face and then he began to guffaw outright, his laughter dotted with full-on unattractive snorts.

"I hope not all men are like you," a woman's voice snipped at his right side.

Having been five beers in, Havoc's brain wasn't fully functional to realize what words had just been said to him. Instead he lazily swept his gaze down. There, standing next to him, was quite possibly the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life. She had thick, wavy brown hair near to the point of being curly where he knew that he'd most likely tangle his fingers in her hair should he try to run his fingers through it. Her big dark eyes were wide with both contempt and amusement, though the arch of a single brow suggested that she was above all of this immaturity. What drew him the most wasn't the curve of her body or even the tight black shirt that she was wearing, but her pinks lips that were turned into the cutest pout.

Havoc couldn't help himself. He was already fairly drunk having only eaten a bag of chips for lunch because they were behind on work. And so the first thing to come out of his mouth was, "Why don't I show you just what kind of man I am, darlin'?"

The woman in question turned positively red in the face, her mouth dropping open and her eyes widening even further as her eyebrows shot up. Havoc laughed even more at her reaction. She folded her arms across her chest, changing her wide eyes into a narrowing glare that might've cut him had he been sober. It kind of reminded him of when Mustang said something flirtatious towards Hawkeye and she straightened up like a rod and glowered at him silently for the rest of the day.

"You keep this one away from me, Riza, or so help me," the woman proclaimed, pushing her way through the group so that she could stand by the other woman.

Havoc grinned saucily at the two women. While the unnamed one scowled, apparently Hawkeye's friend, Hawkeye herself gave him something of a quizzical look and then smiled at him. It was a strange reaction. He didn't know why that she would give him a look like that, considering it was in his nature to be silly and flirty, especially after he'd been drinking.

Her friend sighed in defeat at Hawkeye's lack of defense and then proclaimed that she needed a drink. "And you're getting one too," the woman said, pointing an accusing finger at Hawkeye.

Hawkeye's smile faltered slightly. "Oh, Rebecca, I don't think…"

"Nope, you're getting one. Maybe five." Her friend, Rebecca, decided. She then shot Mustang a smug look. To his credit, Mustang was doing his best to look impassive. It was probably a good thing he'd only had three drinks because otherwise he wouldn't have been able to hide his interest. "I bet this is something even the Colonel and I could agree on."

As Rebecca vanished towards the bar, the revelry began again. Havoc leaned back against the wall, enjoying the nice buzz he had going, when Hawkeye sidled up next to him. There was a definite curious look in her eyes, but he thought that there might've been something else behind them. Maybe…surprise? But that probably had to do with Breda practically tackling her upon her arrival.

"Havoc… Are you feeling okay?" Hawkeye asked him.

That was a strange question. Havoc furrowed his brow at her. "Of course I'm feeling okay. This is the most fun I've had in ages with the Colonel and you working us to the bone." He gave her a dopey grin. "Plus, your friend is cute as hell. I mean, she'll probably punch me by the end of the night, but it'll be worth it."

Hawkeye examined him closely for a moment before asking, "So, did you…notice anything about her?"

"Besides her being hot and feisty, you mean?"

At that, Hawkeye laughed. "Oh, well, that's just your type, isn't it?"

Havoc laughed along with her, but went silent and kept himself to a grin once Rebecca reappeared with a drink for herself and Hawkeye. She forced a strange concoction in Hawkeye's hands (a drink that Havoc knew was the strongest one available, but no doubt Hawkeye didn't know that) and then settled a careful look on him, as if to warn him that she had his eyes on him. Havoc kept right on grinning. Having her eyes on him wouldn't be a bad thing at all.

Approximately eight hours later – after too many drinks, Fuery losing his glasses, Rebecca beating all of them in a drinking contest, Mustang having to excuse himself after somehow dancing with Hawkeye, Breda repeatedly telling Havoc that he loved him, Falman getting two women's numbers on accident, Havoc and Rebecca making out in the back room in the middle of arguing about something, and then someway getting home after parting from everyone – Havoc woke up in a panic.

It was five in the morning. He'd only been asleep for two hours at best. But once he woke up with the memory of words being said to him drifting though his dreams, Havoc shot out of bed and telephoned the first person he could think of.

"Hello?" a groggy voice answered in response.

"She said the words!" Havoc shouted into the phone.

"Excuse me?"

"Hawkeye." Havoc breathed through his nose. His head ached terribly, but everything was so clear. He could picture Rebecca standing next to him wearing that cute little pout and scoffing, and he knew – holy shit, he knew that it was _her_. He glanced down at the words tattooed on his bicep and blinked rapidly. "She said the words. Rebecca. She's…"

A bit of chuckling could be heard on the other end. "I was wondering when you'd realize that."

Havoc ran his fingers through his already bed head hair. "I was already a bit drunk and I wasn't thinking and… You know, I just stopped paying attention. I stopped getting my hopes up because I was acting all crazy…" He paused, trying his best to remember what had happened hours ago. Oh, shit, he'd made out with her. But then, why hadn't she said anything? "Hawkeye… Does she have a soulmate tattoo?"

There was silence. He could tell that she was thinking on what to say. For the most part, people tried not to get involved in other people soulmate tattoos. It was confusing. Some people didn't get them at the same time, so there was an awkward period where one person knew before the other did. Havoc honestly didn't know if he could handle knowing before she did. How long could he wait? How long could anyone what? He imagined having to wait a few more years before she knew and the pain was unbearable. Already he'd felt a connection to her even before the realization had hit him. What if she spent years disliking him before getting hers?

Flowers, he'd have to get her flowers tomorrow. Something, anything, to make up for the ass he'd been tonight. Shit. He'd met his soulmate for the first time, and he'd been a drunken asshat?

"Yes, she does," Hawkeye finally answered.

Havoc breathed a sigh of relief. He wouldn't have to wait. Still though, that didn't account for the way that she'd reacted to him, did it? She hadn't gasped in shock or relief or anything. She hadn't reacted like she had met her soulmate finally, had she? What if she was his soulmate but he wasn't hers? Was that even possible? Havoc felt himself spiraling back into panic mode before even realizing it, but then clamped it down, forming his hands into fists and taking a deep breath.

"This isn't going to be easy, is it," Havoc sighed.

"Soulmate business never is," Hawkeye told him.

And he should have known. He should have known right then and there, that this was going to be problematic. He knew that she was speaking from experience now. In his still somewhat drunken haze, he knew that Hawkeye had a soulmate tattoo and that she felt what he was going through now. Distantly, he wondered if he knew the person, but he didn't think on it for too long. He was going to have to get more advice from her later on about how to deal with this.

After thanking her and apologizing for waking her up, Havoc hung up the phone. His thoughts drifted to Rebecca as he laid back down, his hands behind his head. Hell, he didn't even know her surname yet. He supposed that Hawkeye could help him with that as well since they were best friends. Huh. It was strange. All these years, he'd been pining and hoping that his soulmate would come and he'd pictured it as some sort of fairytale romance. The truth was, being soulmates with someone was a lot more complicated than that. Still, Havoc didn't like it when things were easy. Falling in love with Rebecca and her with him was definitely not going to be easy, but he thought that he could enjoy the time it took.


	74. Great Distance

**Author's Notes:** This is the last part of the soulmates tattoo AU that I've had going on (as far as I've written, at least), but it is the last one for Havolina. Though it's also a stand alone, this is technically a sequel to all them, but most importantly, Drabble 73 ("Parting") and Drabble 37 ("Match"), also Drabble 59 ("Gift") and Drabble 66 ("Pounding of the Heart"). I'm terribly fond of this AU and this pairing. It needs more love!

* * *

 _74\. Great Distance_

* * *

There would be no tears coming from her. Certainly not about a man. Especially not about this idiot man in particular. Because he was most definitely an idiot. And she was angry with him. No, she wasn't just angry; she was infuriated. And not just with him either. She was furious with him, the situation, his dumb loyalty, whoever had done this to him, and very much so the asshole Colonel that had got the ball rolling on all of this. If he hadn't been so loyal to his superior officer, none of this would've happened and they would've been living their lives as happily as could be together.

Rebecca huffed and slouched in her seat on the train, rubbing her sore hip absentmindedly. Oh, who was she kidding? Half the reason why she'd fallen for Jean Havoc in the first place was that underneath his goofy, immature nature was the heart of a damn good soldier, something she hadn't expected from him in the slightest. He was almost as good of a shot as Riza, which was saying something, and extraordinarily good-looking and just the right height to make her want that silly feeling of being protected. Plus, he had such a roguish charm about him that drove her mad – but then he would bring her flowers and cuddle with her on the couch while she was reading, and it was just not fair at all.

It wasn't much of a great distance from Eastern to Central City, but Rebecca felt as if she'd crossed leagues and a desert to get here. When he'd broken up with her a few days before officially leaving for Central, she had been devastated. At first, she'd tried to convince him that they could work out through a long distance relationship. It wasn't that far, she'd kept saying. Just thinking back on how much she'd tried to wheedle with him made her flinch. Why had she acted so ridiculous? She could've been professional, but instead she'd pleaded with him and then went into an angry fit of hysterics that could rival a volcano.

What was it about this man that made her act in such a way? (He was just a man, not her soulmate.) She'd never responded so terribly to the end of a relationship before. (She'd never been dumped by her soulmate either.) It was embarrassing. (It had nothing to do with him being her soulmate – it didn't.)

To be honest, Rebecca didn't know what she was doing here on this train now. Even as it pulled up to the station, she thought about hopping onto the next train right back to Eastern, waste of money be damned. Maybe she should have called before coming – to see if her presence was even wanted – but the moment she'd gotten the call from Riza about what had happened, Rebecca hadn't really thought much past beyond her three immediate reactions. A day and a train ride later, she still hadn't thought farther than that.

First thing on the agenda: check on Riza. There were a lot of emotions bubbling in Rebecca's brain, but her first priority had to be checking on her best friend. Riza had said that she wasn't hurt – and she hadn't said much, keeping mum on the details over the phone out of precaution – but Rebecca had been friends long enough with Riza to detect an emotional undercurrent in her voice. The woman would deny that anything was wrong, but that didn't mean that a visit from a friend wouldn't hurt.

The second thing: check on Jean. That was almost more for herself than it was for him. Maybe he wouldn't want to see her – and if he didn't, that was fine – but she needed to see with her own eyes that he was alive. Riza had been hesitant to talk about what had happened to him even more so than herself, if only because she'd known how badly that Rebecca would react. And to be fair, she had reacted terribly, damn near shouting in the phone. If she could only see him for a minute and find out what was going on with him, she'd be fine.

(Rebecca didn't want to say anything, but the moment Riza had told her that something had happened to Jean, she'd felt like the words tattooed on her hip were on fire. The pain hadn't subsided entirely. Maybe it was all in her head at this point, but she was certain that the soulmate mark that she normally refused to think of wouldn't let her be until she saw him.)

The third thing was purely selfish, but she didn't care. Rebecca was going to get every nasty thing off her chest when it came to one Colonel Mustang. Actually, no, scratch that. She was going to deck him. She didn't care if the man was Riza's and Jean's superior officer and if Riza had some weird complicated mess going on with him that she refused to talk about even more so than Rebecca did about her soulmate tattoo mark. Colonel Smugface needed a good punch in the face.

Keeping her mind on a single track after she left the station, Rebecca got a cab and headed in the direction of the military hospital. It was the best facility in the area, better than any civilian hospital. She'd only been to Central a handful of times to visit Riza and when on some official business with General Grumman once, but she was too busy to think about what she might find in the hospital to consider anything else. At first, she considered going to Riza's apartment, but no, if both Mustang and Jean were in the hospital, that was where Riza would be during off hours. She wouldn't be able to leave her boys behind.

After being dropped off at the hospital, Rebecca stared up at the building and sighed. She clutched her purse a little tighter and then trooped inside. Upon finding out the room number – and being rather surprised that the two officers were sharing a hospital room – she got in the elevator and waited. Her heart began to race as she passed each floor until finally she reached the fourth and her heart jumped right into her throat. It was with near shaky legs that she stepped outside and turned to the left, immediately catching sight of Riza's blonde hair.

Rebecca halted. The words on her hip burned even more. She would not think about it. She would not even consider them. He'd left her. It was for a good reason – she knew that now considering he'd gotten hurt over it – but that didn't make it any better. How could a man so infuriating be her soulmate? (How could she still love him after all this time? Idiots, the both of them.)

Just when she was briefly considering turning tail and running to the nearest bar, Riza turned around and spotted her, amber eyes widening a little. For the most part, Riza had the most excellent poker face that Rebecca had ever seen, but clearly this situation had unraveled her more than usual.

"Hey," Rebecca said meekly. She mentally slapped herself. Why was she acting like such a wimp? This was Riza she was looking at and it was Jean inside the door. Before Riza could say anything in response, Rebecca steeled herself and stomped over to her friend, throwing her arms around the other woman and burying her face in her blonde hair. "Are you okay? I've been worried sick about you. I couldn't even sleep last night or on the train. I know you didn't tell me half of what happened, but god, Riza, you scared me."

Riza hugged her back, not quite as fiercely but still tight. Rebecca knew that her friend was plenty more reserved than she was, so she appreciated it and understood how important it was when Riza opened up to her like this. She might not say it out loud, but she didn't think she had to. Riza had a way of understanding people without them even speaking, not just her dumb Colonel.

"I'm sorry, Rebecca," Riza sighed. "I didn't mean to scare you."

Pulling back a little but keeping a grip on her, Rebecca eyed her best friend carefully. "You're okay though?"

Riza smiled lightly. "I'm okay. Thank you."

Taking a deep breath, Rebecca nodded her head, mostly to herself, but then her eyes flickered to the doorway and a fluttery bundle of nerves shot through her entire body like an electric shock. It was only for a moment, but it was enough for Riza to catch it. Rebecca didn't want to admit it, but she was terrified of what she was going to find inside there. What if Jean didn't want to see her? What if her being here made it worse? She knew that they had ended on bad terms, but she still cared about him greatly. It didn't matter if she couldn't be there for him as a girlfriend (or even as his soulmate, he was hers, damnit, so why was he gone?); she wanted to be there for him as a friend and colleague. Surely she could do that.

"He'll be happy to see you," Riza said quietly, voicing Rebecca's fears. Rebecca couldn't stop herself from squirming even if she tried. "Hold on. Just wait a minute out here."

Riza disappeared through the door, leaving Rebecca in the hall with her growing worries and to listen to the muffled voices inside. Maybe she could bolt right now. She'd seen Riza and made sure she was okay. She could get updates about Jean from Riza too. And she could get through Mustang's line to yell at him later. Grumman had his number. Oh god, this was a mistake, wasn't it? She hadn't been thinking clearly. She'd just jumped on the earliest train and the words had been burning and she couldn't stop touching them without thinking about him and–

The door opened abruptly. Rebecca blinked in surprise at an equally surprised looking Roy Mustang. He looked worse for wear, not so much his dapper and smug self in hospital clothes, pale face, and even more ruffled hair than usual. Once the shock wore off for the both of them, he shuffled around her, notably wincing every time he moved his torso a certain way.

Riza followed quickly after, a frown on her face. "If you would just use the wheelchair, sir–"

"I'm not invalid, Lieutenant," Mustang grumbled, even as he winced and gritted his teeth.

"You're going to pull on your bandages."

"Then you'll just have to fix them."

Riza flushed slightly. "Sir, that's rude of you to suggest after all the hard work the nurses did."

Mustang settled her with a decidedly cocky smirk, which looked rather odd on him at the moment. "Afraid you'll like what you see? You know, strangely enough, I didn't burn everything off."

Even though Rebecca had no idea what they were arguing about, she could tell that Riza was considering burning her superior officer again. Instead, Riza rubbed at her right arm, where Rebecca knew she wore a brace to hide her own soulmate tattoo mark, and let out a sigh. As Mustang continued down the hallway in a more determined walk, refusing to wince, Riza gazed back at Rebecca and gave her an encouraging smile. It took Rebecca far too long to realize what her best friend had done: she had cleared the room for Rebecca so that she could have a private moment with the man inside. She reached out to squeeze Riza's hand in thanks and then turned to face the door.

Truth be told, she kind of wished that Riza was staying with her. That way she wouldn't have to face this alone.

After waving her hands at herself, as if to shake out all of her negative feelings, Rebecca took a deep breath and opened the door, stepping inside and closing it without looking around. She was still facing the door with her hand on the handle when a shocked voice called out behind her.

"R-Rebecca?"

Nope, she wasn't ready for this. Abort the mission. Abort everything.

(The words felt like they were being branded on her all over again and she could hear them being said to her clear as anything in his buzzed, thick accented drawl.)

Rebecca somehow found the strength to turn and face the man in the bed, an uncharacteristically shy smile painted on her face. "Hi, Jean." Great. She hadn't spoken to him in months and that was all that she managed to say to him? Then again, there really wasn't much else she could say to him. Riza had told her the barest details of what had happened, but she'd heard enough between the lines to know that things weren't looking good for (her soulmate) the Second Lieutenant.

Jean blinked back at her, mouth slightly agape, to the point where the cigarette in his mouth actually fell in his lap. He didn't even seem to notice. Despite the fact that his injuries were worse off in the long run than Mustang's, he looked a little better. He was sitting upright, looking like he wasn't in any pain, and he had a much healthier pallor to his skin. It was almost like nothing was wrong, except…

There was no movement under the covers from his lower half. There was nothing to suggest that he could walk.

Clearing his throat, Jean seemed to regain his senses. "What are you doing here?"

"I…" What _was_ she doing here? She came here to see Riza, to see him, and so she had. But that couldn't be it, could it? Rebecca walked over towards him, pulling a chair to his bedside so that she could sit down. "I needed to see you," she answered honestly.

"See me?" Jean scratched the back of his head. "Me?"

"Well, and Riza," Rebecca responded with a small smile, "but mostly you, if I'm being honest."

Jean dropped his hand so that it was lying on the bed overtop the blankets. It was so close for her to hold. She wanted to take his hand, but she was afraid that he'd pull away. Instinctively, her eyes traveled from his hand and up his arm to his bicep. The words, _I hope not all men are like you_ , stood out plain as day in her stereotypical feminine handwriting. He never hid it. Even though her words were something of an insult, he never hid the soulmate tattoo mark. He wasn't embarrassed by it. He was even proud of it. He'd said…

She could remember him nuzzling up against her one night when he was half out of it after working fifteen hours straight and mumbling into her hair that he was proud that he was hers.

"She called me to tell me something had happened and I just… I freaked out." Rebecca went to bury her face in her hands in embarrassment, but Jean snatched her hand. The action didn't scare her. Instead, she almost felt like crying out in relief, but no, that would be beyond humiliating. She hated getting so worked up in front of him over this as it was. He was the one seriously injured in the hospital, not her. And he may have been the one to break up with him, but she had been the one to never admit to even having his words written on her.

"Hey, Bec, I'm glad you're here, seriously." Jean smiled at her. She'd missed his smile. It was always so bright and genuine, no matter what. "I've been a real idiot lately. Definitely made me realize how lucky I was."

"What happened wasn't your fault," Rebecca pointed out. "You were right in what you did. I'm the one that overreacted and was stupid. I was so, ugh, I said a lot of mean things."

Jean chuckled. "Nothing I didn't deserve."

"No, you really didn't," Rebecca insisted. She squeezed his hand tighter and stood up from her seat. There wasn't much room for her on the bed and he couldn't move around easily, but she made do with what she could and sat down on the small space she had. She moved so that she could lean against his chest and he threw his free arm around her, holding her protectively. "I was scared because…" She closed her eyes. "I was scared because I realized you might die without me ever admitting that I'm yours too."

All her childhood, she'd dreamed about getting her soulmate tattoo mark. She'd listened to her parents' stories about how they had gotten theirs when they were both young and how they met each other for the first time. She watched in awe as they began to appear on her friends. And then, a week before she went to the Academy, while she was on a jog, her soulmate mark had appeared and caused her to fall and sprain her ankle. The pain hadn't mattered until she'd pulled down the waistband on her shorts and stared in a mixture of horror and surprise at what was tattooed on her. How was she supposed to fall in love with a man that spoke to her like that?

When she went to the Academy and met other people, a lot of the other cadets talked about their soulmate marks and showed them off. Rebecca was all too proud to proclaim that she had one, but the moment someone asked to see it, she'd balk and explain that it was in an inappropriate area or that she had to leave. The only person to never question her had been Riza, and that was because of her own personal aversion to soulmate tattoo marks. When Riza came back from Ishval shell-shocked and even more reserved, she'd come back wearing a brace with the simple explanation that she'd gotten injured.

Rebecca wasn't dumb. She knew that Riza was hiding a soulmate tattoo mark and wisely decided to never bring it up. Something like that was horrible timing – finding out you had a soulmate while you were in war. So neither Rebecca nor Riza talked about their soulmate marks, one out of humiliation and the other out of shame. And then thanks to her best friend, Rebecca heard the words tattooed on her from this idiot man and everything that she'd been hiding came to a front.

She couldn't hide from the words anymore. All her dreams about finding her soulmate came right back to haunt her and she, Rebecca Catalina, most stubborn and confident woman this side of Amestris, had no clue how to handle being faced with her other half. The only way she'd been able to react was to deny everything – deny that it was affecting her, deny that it was unsettling her, deny that she was falling for him, deny that she had any feelings for him beyond a physical attraction that even she couldn't ignore. It had all come crashing down the day he had ended things with her and packed off to Central.

"You could've died," Rebecca damn near cried. "You could've died and it wouldn't have mattered. We'd met each other. We…we'd already fallen for one another. You're my soulmate and I'm yours. You could've died and I would've been alone with the knowledge that I never opened myself up to you completely." She pressed her face into his chest so that she didn't have to face him. She hated being this emotional, but she'd had entire train ride to torture herself with these thoughts. "And I know it's selfish of me, especially right now, but I–"

"Hey, _hey_." Jean's voice rumbled softly in his chest. He moved around, prompting her to sit up. When she looked him in the eyes, they were so soft and gentle. People always thought he was this dumb, idiot guy, but she knew that he was caring underneath. He went out of his way for anyone that he cared about, including a girl like her that refused to acknowledge who he was to her. "It's not selfish. Every time I came to from unconsciousness, I kept thinking that I had to live, if only so I could see you one more time. That's it. That's all I wanted. And that is pretty damn selfish too. I think we're allowed that in times like these."

Rebecca sniffed. "We're idiots, aren't we?"

"Only when we're apart," Jean offered. He leaned forward so that he could kiss her on the forehead. "Thank you for coming. I needed this. I needed _you_."

Tracing the words on his bicep with her finger, Rebecca gave him a watery smile. He slid his hand down so that it was on her hip, right where his words were marking her. She had no idea what the future held for them, but she felt like relaxed now that she'd opened up to him. It was like there had been something coiled deep inside of her, refusing to come undone until she was honest with both him and herself. She didn't know what that meant for them, but she didn't really care at the moment.

"Speaking of that," Jean piped up, tapping his fingers on her soulmate mark. "I was right." When she gave him a quizzical look, he responded with a sheepish grin. "If you can recall the last time you came to visit me in the hospital…"

"When Mustang brought a building down on you and you didn't tell me you were hospitalized," Rebecca supplied dryly. "You seem to make a habit of making me come chase you in hospitals."

"I do like it when women cry over me…" Jean laughed when she swatted his arm. He gave her a brief apologetic look that she did not think was entirely honest before continuing. "Mustang does have soulmate tattoo mark. That's why he had a patch to cover it up. During the, ah, incident, he was injured and had to cauterize the wound right on the spot where the mark was." Rebecca hummed thoughtfully, recalling the teasing words that Mustang had said to Riza in the hallway. They'd seemed strange, but Jean's information shed some light. "But guess what? It's still there."

Rebecca furrowed her brow. "What do you mean? It's a tattoo, so it'd be burned away or damaged."

Jean shrugged his shoulders. "From what I saw when he had to get the wound redressed, the words are still there clear as day. The skin around it looks like hell, but it's like… I don't know. The first words your soulmate says to you never go away. I thought it was kind of poetic."

For a moment, Rebecca stared at Jean until a smile blossomed on her face. "There aren't any men like you."

"Nope," Jean replied cheekily, "there's only one man that gets to be Rebecca Catalina's soulmate."

Wasn't that the truth? She closed the distance between them to kiss him and everything felt right. The words on her hips stopped throbbing and she knew, she just knew, that this was the beginning of the very thing that she'd both been looking forward to and afraid of this whole time.


	75. Why?

**Author's Notes:** Poor Roy. Mister Grumpypants when he doesn't get his way. I love him too much, and Riza does as well. Thank you all for reading! 3/4 of the way there!

* * *

 _75\. Why?_

* * *

Roy could barely manage to keep from slouching in his seat as he focused heavily on the drink before him. Even worse was the fact that he couldn't blame his inability to control his mood on alcohol. This was only his second drink of the night. Granted, it was a whisky double, but that didn't account for his behavior. He was acting like a child, if he was being honest with himself, a surly child that was pouting because he didn't get what he wanted, although alcohol wasn't very appropriate for a kid.

Try as he might act like a mature adult, Roy couldn't help but feel disgruntled and slighted. Yeah, he was only twenty-five, but he had deserved that promotion, not that sniveling idiot Lieutenant-Colonel Alex Kavanaugh who couldn't find his way out of a paper bag unless there was money sitting outside it.

Oh, no, it was _Colonel_ Kavanaugh now.

Apparently, a sterling record both in and out of service didn't mean for shit when you had money to buy your way to the top. Roy could work as hard as he wanted, running himself and his team ragged and putting everything else in his life on the back burner, but that didn't matter when someone else had the back account and the right connections to the right pockets to back him up. It had been a no brainer that Roy deserved the promotion to Colonel and yet it had been Kavanaugh that walked out with another mark on his shoulder.

If he hadn't been in public, Roy probably would've tossed the glass of whisky across the room, but alas, he was not hidden in his plain home. It didn't matter that Roy technically still made more money than Kavanaugh as just a Lieutenant-Colonel and a State Alchemist; he didn't have the old money to fall back on or family connections in the military. He used what he could through his connections with his foster aunt and Grumman and even his reputation from Ishval and the Academy, but it could only get him so far.

The name Mustang wasn't prestigious yet. He swore it would be one day – swore it with every bit of fire in his soul – but right now, he felt like all his dreams were damp with disappoint and drowning in whisky was the only route he could go. It was stupid, immature as hell, and he'd regret it in the morning, but he deserved some time to wallow in his frustration. He'd worked so hard to get that promotion. It should've been his. He'd earned it, damnit, through hard work and merit and sheer tenacity.

If he stopped to look back, he would realize that he was a lot farther than most people could've dreamed at his age. A Major at twenty years of age, the youngest person to achieve the title of State Alchemist, a Lieutenant-Colonel by twenty-four, Roy Mustang was climbing high and fast, but it was never good enough for a man that wanted to change the world. Maybe it was too fast for some people's tastes, and that was why they held him back this time around. That wasn't good enough for him.

Things would've been fine. Roy would have had a few more drinks and then stumbled on home, only to wake up the next day and put his game face back on after slapping himself with water a few times. He would've gotten over himself and he would've moved on. But then the door to the bar opened and a few men staggered inside, already filled with liquor and excitement. One man in particular caught his eye as he was getting clapped on the back. Roy gripped the glass in his hand to the point of nearly shattering it.

Of all the people to come celebrate in this bar, it had to be bloody Kavanaugh.

The man was in his early thirties with light blonde hair and blue eyes. He looked the pinnacle of Amestris whereas Roy didn't fit the mold with his late mother's Xingese looks. Kavanaugh was taller as well, still defined and muscular, and, if Roy was being honest, he was an attractive guy. Too bad the man was more of a brown noser than Roy could ever be. The man was up the ass of anyone that could further his career and he relied on his family's ties and money far too much. He made Falman look like a sharp shooter and buckled when push came to shove.

The only reason his last mission went smoothly was because it had been a joint operation between his team and Roy's – and then the asshole had taken all the credit with their superiors. And it was for that reason that Roy believed Kavanaugh had gotten the promotion while he'd been left in the cold.

Scowling to himself as the men made their way to a booth, Roy briefly considered slipping on his gloves and causing a little mayhem. He'd be able to get away with it without people knowing what he was up to, having done it before as a prank on Hughes. Just as he was toying with the idea though, even fingering one of his ignition gloves in his pocket, something Kavanaugh called out caught his interest.

"Oh, is that you?" Kavanaugh said, his voice to the near point of slurring. Roy froze on the spot, immediately thinking that he'd been spotted at the bar, when the other man went in an entirely different direction. "It is! You come here, Second Lieutenant Hawkeye. We're celebrating my promotion. Drinks are on me!"

Roy had to use every bit of strength in his body to not swivel around and see what was happening. Instead, he glanced up at the mirror behind the bar and searched through the reflection until he found her. There was his adjutant, Riza Hawkeye, standing some ways behind him. She was in plain clothes, out of her uniform, looking remarkably calmer than he felt. The only reason Roy himself had changed into civilian clothes was because he didn't want to be found by anyone in the military and because he'd felt too ashamed to wear the uniform.

He watched with abated breath as a faint smile appeared on Riza's face. To anyone else in the bar, she might have looked demure, but Roy could spot a forced smile on her face from a mile away. "I'll pass on that tonight. Thank you for your consideration though and congratulations. I'm sure you earned it."

Roy snorted lowly. That was an insult, though the other man wouldn't know it. He knew for a fact that Riza did not believe for one second that Kavanaugh earned his promotion through typical means – he'd seen it on her face when he'd told her the news – but she was far too professional to say something like that out loud. That was where Roy came in.

"Oh, come now," Kavanaugh drawled, dragging himself to his feet and swaggering over towards her. To her credit, she did not balk and stayed very still even when the man threw an arm around her shoulders. Roy almost jumped up at that, but restrained himself from moving a muscle. "Don't force me to make that a command."

Riza looked up at the man with cool, amber eyes. It was the look she got on her face before she pulled the trigger. The smile was still on her face though. "I don't believe you're my commanding officer."

"This is true," Kavanaugh mused, pulling a thoughtful expression onto his face. "Now that I'm a Colonel, I could make that happen. What would you say to that? Bump you up to First Lieutenant. I could transfer you to my team. I would take very good care of you, much better than that pyromaniac ever could."

Roy wanted more than anything to turn around and physically launch himself at the other man, maybe even strangle him, when the words finally registered in his brain. Kavanaugh could… He was of a higher rank than Roy. He could order Riza's transfer from his group, if he decided. He could promote her. Roy's heart dropped into his stomach. Not only was his lack of getting promoted hurting him, but it was also holding Riza back. She could rise in the ranks too, but only if he did, so that she could follow him. His failure was also hers.

At this though, the smile on Riza's face disappeared. "With all due respect, sir, I'm happy with where I am and with my current commanding officer. We have a good team and I'd hate to be separated from them. You'll be outstanding in your position, but I would prefer to serve under Lieutenant-Colonel Mustang."

Kavanaugh didn't seem to detect the hint of a threat in her voice. It was sharp and crystal clear to Roy even after three fingers of whisky. The men in his group didn't notice it either. They were still laughing and goading their friend and superior officer on. It was one thing for Roy to know that Riza had to suffer certain things by being a female in the military, but it was quite another to see it firsthand. The fact that she hadn't pulled a gun on Kavanaugh yet despite him still pulling her close to him was somewhat surprising.

"Well, he must be good at something, I suppose," Kavanaugh laughed. He smirked, all sloppy and smug, and gave her a look that was more than obvious about where his thoughts lied. "But I can assure you, I'm talented in other ways, and since you refuse to leave his command, I'd be more than willing to entertain you in those ways." His friends howled behind him. Roy was tugging on his gloves, his drink and desire to stay anonymous forgotten. Riza didn't blink, even with Kavanaugh's face so close to hers. "Mustang can't give what I can."

With a sigh, Riza picked the man's hand off her shoulder and peeled it off of her, like she could barely stand to touch the man to get him away from her. She wore an impassive expression, not even her eyes betraying a single hint of disgust, but Roy knew that her clear disinterest would cut Kavanaugh to the quick worse than her outright refusal of him. Indeed, Kavanaugh was already beginning to blink in confusion.

"While I appreciate the sentiment, I must pass on that offer as well," Riza explained in a mild tone, like she was talking about something as interesting as watching paint dry. "I'm afraid you're not my type. Besides, considering how much alcohol you've had tonight, your already poor ability to perform would be highly suspect and I've had a sufficiently disappointing day as it is since the brass decided to award money over hard work. Have a good night, sir."

As Kavanaugh began to sputter and spun around to his friends for an explanation, Riza wormed her way away from him and through the crowd that was guffawing at what had just occurred. Roy startled when he felt a hand on his elbow and words of, "Let's leave before he decides to write me up for insubordination," being murmured into his ear. He threw down money to cover his tab and tip and then shuffled out of the bar before the laughter could stop and Kavanaugh could gather his wits.

Roy stopped on the sidewalk and whirled around to face his Lieutenant. She didn't look frazzled in the slightest, but if he looked closely, he could see that her cheeks were pink. The light of the lamppost washed out her face a little, but it couldn't hide that. "Why?" was all that he could manage to say.

Riza looked at him straight without a hint of irony. "You always come here to drink when you're upset and don't want to get drunk around people you know. I didn't want you to wake up tomorrow regretting the night's decisions–"

"No." Roy stepped closer to her. He could smell the hint of perfume on her, something she didn't wear at the office. At work, she came off so serious and professional that it was hard to look past her rank, but Roy knew that she was a woman underneath the uniform still. Apparently he hadn't been the only one to notice. "Why are you still following me?"

Narrowing her eyes at him, Riza tilted her head to examine him closer. "How much did you have to drink? You only paid for two drinks at best."

"I'm dead serious, Hawkeye," Roy demanded forcefully. He'd never felt so certain in his life about being uncertain. There was no good reason why she didn't take up the offer to be transferred and promoted. She would be so much better without him dragging her down with his dreams and sins. "Why are you following me, after everything I've done, after I've failed you so miserably time and time again?"

Much like a child, Roy dropped his eyes from her face and fiddled with her hand at her side, like it was a toy. It wasn't too inappropriate. He didn't grab her hand, just sort of…played with her fingers. They were small and delicate, but she'd pulled triggers with these fingers and killed with these hands. He'd done that to her, hadn't he? Gotten her wrapped up in his delusions of grandeur to the point that she'd followed him into war and now this, trapped behind him, while he tried to make up for the fact that he'd turned his dreams into nightmares.

"Because I still believe in you," Riza answered him quietly, grabbing his hand with her free one and stilling it. They stood there like that, both looking down at their hands. "Because maybe you did fail, but so did so many others, myself included, and you're the only one I know that wants to make things right and is working to do so. Yeah, I could follow a selfish idiot like Kavanaugh and rise in the ranks, but he doesn't care about his job or the people he's supposed to protect like you do, and I refuse to follow someone that I don't believe in."

Roy sighed. "You make it sound so simple."

"It is that simple," Riza insisted. She slowly pulled his hand from hers, turning his hand palm up, and traced the lifeline on his palm. The action nearly sent a shiver up his spine. It struck him as more intimate than a kiss. She would be the one to assure that his life wasn't cut short. "I know you think it so sometimes, but you're not alone in this. I continue to follow you, not only because I believe in you, but because I'd like to believe that there is still some room for redemption for me. You're the only one that I trust can help give me that."

Carefully, Riza closed his hand into a fist and Roy smiled. As someone that was forced to face many questionable things that had no answers during his time in the military and studying alchemy, it was a pleasant surprise and relief to know someone that could cut right through the "why" of things and answer them so simply. He'd get that promotion. Maybe it wasn't today and it wasn't tomorrow, but he would get it and then the next one after that. It would take time, but Roy was positive that he could do anything as long as Riza believed in him.


	76. Watching Over You

**Author's Notes:** Ah, thank you so much, **Thrane**! And I'm kind of in disbelief that I'm so close to the end as well. I've already written up to Drabble 93 and it's just wild. I'm going to do an alphabet series though afterwards, I think, because I'm weak. This drabble is based off of the events that led up to **Drabble 56 ("Skillful & Clumsy")**, so prepare yourselves for some parental!Royai with Ed and Al!

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 _76\. Watching Over You_

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"I don't see why I have to come on this stupid mission with you," Edward grumbled as he walked alongside Roy. True to his age, the younger alchemist had his shoulders hunched and hands dug in his pockets, glowering at the ground and kicking at a rock as they neared their destination.

Roy didn't even bother glancing at the boy that was technically his subordinate. "Trust me, Fullmetal, if I'd had my way, I wouldn't have you here either. I don't much enjoy having to babysit while in the field."

Behind them, Riza rolled her eyes to herself as the two alchemists bickered with one another. Well, it was mostly Edward complaining and Roy subtly sniping at him in return. It was typical of them, so it helped keep any sort of tension away. Roy came off as dismissive and perhaps even insulting at times, but she knew that underneath his current snarky behavior, he was frustrated – and this time, it wasn't with Edward.

Roy hadn't wanted Edward to join them on this mission, but it wasn't for the reasons that he was implying. Even though Edward was young, it wasn't his age or even lack of experience that had Roy miffed. Despite his age, they both knew that Edward had already done some incredible things with his duty as a State Alchemist. He produced good results, although mostly through unconventional and sometimes destructive means.

Although Edward was one of his subordinates, Roy didn't much like having Edward around when they went on missions. Riza knew that it was because Roy tended to not think as clearly when it came to the boy, though he would never admit such a thing. Throughout the years as his commanding officer, Roy had created a picture of what he wanted Edward to see him as, and it was all too easy for that to come crashing down when they were out on the field. Roy wasn't exactly the same when he was on the job. And he would be horrified if Edward ever found out that Roy actually cared about him.

Hell, Roy would be moody if even Riza admitted that she knew. Just insinuating it would be bad.

However, when they'd been ordered to check out a potential stash house for insurgents in a plot to attack a government building in Eastern, Roy hadn't had a choice but to bring Edward along. The visiting General from the Southern Headquarters, General Moore, had ordered the Fullmetal Alchemist to be brought on the mission. According to the General, Roy had not been using the Dog of the Military under his command properly or to his full potential to help the government. Essentially, Roy's leash had been yanked to jerk on Edward's leash.

An hour after bursting into the dorms and damn near dragging Edward out of his room with Alphonse teetering behind all of them nervously, they stood outside the building in question. Considering that it was a suspected hideout for a group of disgruntled former soldiers banding together, they hadn't bothered with a search warrant. With Roy's rank and both his and Edward's titles as State Alchemists, they wouldn't need one. Riza had offered to get one, in order to help smooth things out a little more, but the General had stated that there was no time for such frivolities. Nearly the entire reason Roy was scowling now was because of the man, but he'd let Edward believe that it was his presence.

"This won't be dangerous, will it, Lieutenant?" Alphonse asked her.

Riza looked back at Alphonse. Despite the fact that he was a suit of armor, it was never difficult to tell what he was feeling. He put all of his emotion into his voice. In that moment, she knew that he was uneasy, and so she knew that it would be best not to lie to him. She very rarely lied to spare someone's feelings anyways. "It could be," she answered. "The intel we received was vague at best. We don't really know what we're walking into, so it could be nothing or it could end in a firefight."

"Good thing we have the Colonel then," Alphonse responded, sounding almost upbeat.

A small smile crossed Riza's face. She adored how positive the younger Elric brother was. While Edward fought tooth and nail and was determined to meet their goals through grit and pain, Alphonse never once doubted his older brother and they would fulfill their dreams. She wondered if she had ever been that optimistic, but no, that had always been Roy's nature, not hers. She was more like Edward in that respect.

"Let's just do our jobs, shall we, Fullmetal?" Roy said before knocking on the door to announce their arrival. It was unnecessary, seeing as how she'd spotted people watching them from the windows, but it was best to state their intentions outright. After speaking with the man at the door and explaining that they needed to search the house due to reports of suspicious activity and that they would be out of their business as quickly as possible, the door opened wide and the four of them stepped inside.

They split up in two teams to search the house, Edward with Alphonse and Roy with Riza. It was best that way, if only so Riza could keep an eye on Roy and Alphonse could watch over Edward, though she didn't say that out loud. Edward and Al searched the house for any signs of propaganda or weapons while Roy did the questioning. Riza simply stood back so that she could observe everyone while they worked. With their attention focused on Roy and the boys, she could mostly be ignored and was able to spot things that others weren't.

Twenty minutes into them being there and Roy finishing up his questioning, Edward and Al came back into the living room. With a single shake of his head, Edward let Riza know that they had found nothing. Roy glanced back at Riza briefly and understood her with a single blink of her eyes. It seemed as if their trip here had been nothing but a bust. She could already hear Edward harping onto Roy about wasting his time and Roy in turn practically snarling at the General for overreacting.

"Sorry to inconvenience you all," Roy told the men and women in the room. He turned and waved a hand at them. Edward huffed and stomped out of the room, Alphonse apologizing to a hard-eyed woman as he followed his brother. Riza was only a few feet behind when the floor creaked under her and she paused. Roy gave her a curious look as she stared down at the rug under her feet. She looked around and noticed that it was in a strange spot. There was a coffee table in the middle of the room and then a rug next to it. That made no sense. Unless…

Using her boot, Riza nudged the rug to the side and found a hidden locked door underneath.

Roy stepped up next to her, looked at the door, and then turned to the owner of the house. "What's in here?"

"Just some old junk," the man responded quickly. "The houses here are old so most of them have cellars. We never go down there. It looked unsafe, so we locked it up."

"Well, if it's unsafe, then perhaps it should be inspected to assure the stability of this house," Roy said, a small, humorless smile on his face. From the doorway, Edward peered inside the room suspiciously. "Do you have a key?" No one in the room said anything. Riza caught sight of two younger men cast each other nervous looks. Another man stepped into the kitchen. Riza dropped a hand to her side near her service weapon. "You said that you locked it up yourself, so do you have a key?"

"We, ah, we lost it," the man finally said.

Edward snorted. "That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard," he proclaimed before walking up to the trapped door and crouching door. He slapped his hands together and then touched the lock. Blue light crackled around it and she heard a pop before the light faded and the lock was turned into a straight rod, something that Edward could easily pull out of the lock holes. Without even waiting for a response, he jerked the door open.

And all hell broke loose.

With all the mayhem, Riza couldn't exactly tell what all was going on, not since her immediate reaction was to protect Roy. She briefly panicked when she didn't know where Edward was and cursed herself for not being able to watch out for both alchemists, but then heard his distinctive shouting in the next room. A man ran into the room, peppering the walls with sporadic gunfire. Riza just barely managed to knock Roy to the ground behind the couch before he was shot.

"Damnit!" Roy growled as bullets flew over the couch above their heads. "How did they manage to grab their weapons so quickly? I know Fullmetal isn't that incompetent."

"Hardly the time to question that, sir," Riza pointed out.

The crackling sound of alchemy and blue light shined in the other room, followed by the sound of metal hitting metal. She watched as Roy ground his teeth at the sight and knew what he was thinking. Edward was fighting with someone in the other room, using his automail arm as a weapon. He was a great fighter, but that didn't mean he wasn't capable of slipping up. Both of them had seen him get seriously injured before. If his automail arm was damaged, he wouldn't be entirely useless and he still had Alphonse, but if it was destroyed…

"Are you all really that desperate that you'd fight a child?" Roy called out from his spot.

There was a loud crash in the room that sounded like someone being thrown against a table. "I'm not a child!"

"Did you even come up with a plan for attack?" Roy continued, even as bullets began to puncture the couch and table they were using as cover. "Or did you just grab a bunch of weapons and think running in blindly would be your best bet? Is there even a plan b?"

"Sir," Riza admonished, popping up from behind their hiding spot to fire two rounds in one of the men shooting at them. But then, she knew what he was doing. He was trying to draw their attention away from Edward and force them to solely focus on him. And it was working somewhat. The man she'd shot had only jumped into her line of sight because he'd been ready to shout back at Roy.

"Some revolutionaries!" Roy laughed caustically. He returned fire of with his own service weapon. So far, she hadn't seen him go for his gloves once. Then again, they were in a tightly confined area. He could control his flames perfectly, but it would still be dangerous, especially considering how old the building was. The floor shook as alchemy was used to attack. Riza had to fight the urge to sigh. With Roy antagonizing both the enemy and Edward with his words, they would be lucky if this building survived. "I've seen people put up a better fight while armed with less!"

"You would have, wouldn't you!" a dark-haired man with a shotgun shouted back. "Devil of Ishval! Why don't you show us who you really are? Or are you too busy cowering behind others to do your bidding? Using a child and a woman to protect you while you hide behind your rank!"

The entire building began to rumble and shake around them, alchemy light snapping in the air. "I'm not a child!" Edward screamed again. Riza watched with wide eyes as the wall erupted behind the man shouting and a stone pillar shot out and knocked him right out the window. Roy actually laughed again. Idiot men and their alchemy. With a large hole now in the wall, they could see into the room where Edward was fighting two men at the same time. A metal clanking sound let Riza know that Alphonse had found himself fighting people out back.

Roy was about to stand up when gunfire started up again and Riza had to jerk him back down. They leaned around so that they could return fire as best as they could, but it was difficult to get a good angle on the shooters. Roy was able to nick one, but that was it. Waving a hand to let him know where she was going, Roy gave her cover fire so that she could run to the other side of the room and duck behind a wall, so that she was able to shoot one of the men hiding up the stairs.

There were more continuous sounds of fighting in the other room when Edward let out a shout of pain and Roy fumbled on the ground in his attempt to jump up again. Riza jerkily waved a hand at him to tell him to stay down and he did so once he still, eyeing her with hard dark eyes. He couldn't see what was going on from his position without raising his head above his cover and potentially getting shot. Riza was able to peer around the corner to get a view, but almost wished that she hadn't.

Edward was lying face first on the ground, blood already spotting in his bright blond hair. There was a pained and angry expression on his face as he was kept down. The man they'd been questioning earlier was on top of him, a knee digging into Edward's back as he held Edward's arms back and in an awkward angle so that he couldn't clap them together and use his alchemy. Another man was standing behind them with a metal pipe. He'd probably hit Edward from behind so that he'd been caught off guard. A man with a knife stepped into view, half his side covered in blood from a wound that looked like it'd been inflicted by Edward's automail blade.

Riza took a deep breath. It was not a sight that she wanted the Colonel to see. No doubt Roy would lose his temper if he saw it, but she needed him to stay calm. Maybe, if she maneuvered quickly and quietly, she would be able to cut them from behind. She could get Alphonse, but he was noisy no matter what. She checked the clip of her gun. Three bullets left. Her third spare was still full, but she wouldn't have time to pull it if she wanted to catch them all off guard.

"I wouldn't do anything if I were you, Flame! Except drop all your weapons and hand yourself over!" Edward's captor called out. "Unless you don't care about your boy here."

"I'm not his boy," Edward managed to ground out. His words only served to get his head slammed into the ground and he grunted in pain.

"Brother!" Alphonse gasped upon stepping into the room.

"Stay back!" the man yelled, digging his knee more painfully into Edward's back. "I did not want to resort to killing a child, but clearly he is no innocent if he has chosen the role of a Dog! Maybe this is what we need to do in order to show that we are not to be trifled with or ignored!"

Alphonse froze, unsure of what to do. Riza waved a gentle hand at him. When she glanced at Roy though, she caught the dark expression slowly growing on his face and knew that she wouldn't be able to get him to come down. His gun was loose in his hand as he stared at a shattered mirror on the wall. Despite it being broken, he had still managed to catch a glimpse of what was going on. Despite the fact that he was hurt and in a life-threatening position, Edward did not look scared. And even though he was seemingly helpless, Roy did not look scared either.

Both of them looked very, very angry and Riza knew that that was most dangerous of all.

"And you sneer at me for who I am?" Roy finally said. Riza almost closed her eyes and groaned to herself. This was not going to end well for anyone. "You're pathetic. Killing one child, even if he is a State Alchemist, will only send the message that you're pitiful, stupid, and not worth our time. I'll take you as a serious threat to this country when you come back to me on my level."

"To hell with you, Mustang!" Edward's captor screamed. He pulled his knee off Edward and jerked him up by yanking on his arms. It had have been painful with the ports of his automail being turned at an awkward angle. He let go of Ed's regular arm, but before Edward could do anything, the man violently yanked the knife out of his partner's hand. "We'll see just how little the military cares for the men they use as fodder!"

And then he stabbed Edward right in the gut.

One of Alphonse's hands flew out, as if to catch Edward as he gurgled and collapsed to the ground. "Brother!"

Riza stared in horror as blood began to pool around the young boy. She'd seen fellow soldiers get stabbed before, even shot right before her eyes, but she hadn't seen something like this in… She thought of those dead children on their eighth case as a team when she'd nearly lost control of herself. She remembered how hot the tears had burned her cheeks and eyes with every stone she'd placed over a dead Ishvallan child's grave. She knew that there was little she could do – nor have to do – when she looked over at Roy and saw his reaction.

At first, Roy didn't seem to register what had happened as he watched Edward's shattered reflection fall to the ground. The boy's body curled naturally to protect itself as blood seeped out from the stab wound. Distantly, they were all aware that the man that had stabbed Edward was still shouting, but none of them heard a thing. Then Roy's eyes widened more than she'd ever seen and he took a deep breath. "Edward!" he shouted, perhaps the first time he had ever used the boy's actual name to speak to him. There was no response. "Edward!"

When all Edward could do was groan and twitch on the ground, Riza knew that it was enough to send Roy right over the edge. She went to shoot, but gunfire was sprayed around her and she was forced to crouch down and take cover. Alphonse ran close to cover her, bullets that may have scraped her bouncing off of him. She watched as he began to draw an array, but knew that he wouldn't have enough time, not as she watched Roy drop his gun and slip on his ignition gloves.

The man turned the knife on Edward again. Gunshots rang around them. There was a loud snap, a sound that Riza knew intimately and very different from gunfire, and flames burst into life, zigzagging their way through the room. Alphonse watched in awe as a wall of flames circled around Edward's prone form, effectively blocking him from view of everyone else. If he was scared that Roy's alchemy might hurt Edward in some way, he didn't show it. With a wall of flames protecting Edward, there was another snap and more flames exploding into being, so violent and sharp that they actually blew every attacker off their feet.

When all the large flames died down suddenly, Roy was standing up, a cold look in his eyes. He stepped out of the rubble, poised to attack again, when a woman and a man ran into the room ready to fight. With a single flick of his finger, his alchemy snapped to life and fire burst around both attackers and they were knocked back against a pillar, breaking clean through the wood.

Finally, when it appeared as if there was no one left to fight, Roy lost his composure. He staggered through the debris, ignoring the bits of the rubble and building that were still on fire, until he was down on his knees at Edward's body. He grunted in protest as he rolled Edward onto his back and bit back a wince when Edward let out a loud groan. Alphonse jumped at the response, running over to the State Alchemists where Roy was already taking off his jacket and then applying pressure to the stab wound.

"Is he going to be okay?" Alphonse demanded.

"He'll be fine," Roy said, frustration evident in his voice. Clearly not his most comforting voice, but he wasn't irritated with Alphonse for asking such a question. He'd pulled Edward up so that his head was practically resting on his knees. "Stupid idiot, getting himself caught like that. A fight like this, reinforcements should be here by now. Lieutenant, make sure that there's a medic."

Standing up from her position, Riza nodded her head. "Yes–"

There was a loud creaking sound and then multiple crashes as parts of the ceiling fell down around her. When she looked up, she noticed that some of Roy's fires had caught elsewhere. In his temper, he'd lost control and had allowed the flames to rise higher and burn hotter. Combined with the fact that Edward had been using the building as materials for his alchemy to fight…

"We need to get out of here right now."

"Moving Edward when he's in this condition is dangerous!" Roy exclaimed.

"Staying in this building when it's highly unstable is even more dangerous!" Riza snapped.

Roy blinked and looked around, seemingly noticing that the building was crumbling around them for the first time. Growling in frustration, he moved around so that Edward was no longer on top of him, but then seemed to struggle how he was going to carry the golden-haired boy while continuing to apply pressure to his wound. When he glanced up, Riza saw just at how much of a loss Roy was. He looked panicked. She hadn't seen him look like this on a mission ever.

"I can get him, Colonel," Alphonse assured, bending down and easily picking his brother up in his metal arms. Edward groaned, his hands pressing down on the jacket covering his stab wound, and grumbled a complaint, the first sign that he was actually conscious.

They started to walk out when Riza realized that the Colonel wasn't following them and halted despite her worries. When she turned around, she found Roy pitilessly staring down at the struggling form a man pined underneath a burning wooden beam. She realized with a start that it was the man that had stabbed Edward. He was still alive despite Roy's flames blowing him off his feet, badly burned yes and trapped under rubble, but still alive and choking out curses against the Flame Alchemist.

Roy had one gloved hand slightly raised. Riza held her breath. The gun in her hand burned and it wasn't from the heat of the flames.

"Colonel…"

It was one small, rather pitifully sounding word, but it was enough to shake Roy back into his body. He glanced back at Edward, who had one eye open enough to glare at him. Riza breathed quietly. It was so little, but one single call from Edward and Roy came back to her. He dropped his hand to his side, gave the trapped man a disdainful look, and then hurriedly followed them through broken down rooms and outside as the building began to fall around them.

Fire took it over and the building collapsed in on itself once they were outside. Just as Roy had voiced, there were already reinforcements arriving on the scene, demanding what had happened. Alphonse carefully laid Edward on the ground as Riza ran to the men and called for a paramedic. When she returned back to them, Alphonse was crouched on the ground next to Edward, who was trying to sit up and fend his brother off despite his various wounds. Roy stood a few feet to the side, silently watching the building that both he and Edward had helped destroy. There would be no one coming out of that mess.

Riza stepped next to him. "Sir…"

"I reacted pretty recklessly, didn't I?" Roy said in a distant tone, eyes locked ahead. "Look at those flames. What a lack of control. It's embarrassing."

Though she said nothing, Riza understood what Roy meant. He wasn't talking about his flame alchemy. And she also knew that she was not to say anything about that either. Roy was prickly when it came to Edward and liked to pretend that he didn't care, but she knew that he would be damned if Edward actually found out that Roy was watching over him.


	77. Implicit Rules

**Author's Notes:** Thanks everyone for reading! Even though I'm only one Drabble 77 here, I've written all the way up to 96 already, and I can't believe I'm so close to being done. You all have been excellent.

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 _77\. Implicit Rules_

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Their first year working together as commanding officer and adjutant is more awkward and trying than either one of them would like to admit. Both of them would like to pretend that they were professional right from the get go and fit into their roles with ease. Roy had worn the uniform longer than her, having been in the military before being called to war, but Riza had essentially graduated on the battlefield. There was little time for them to adjust to their titles after the war ended.

One second they were at war. The next it was over. And what lay in between those two seconds was only meant for them to know, but the breath in between war and peace had been too violent and intimate to allow them to easily slip into their new skin and made for an uncomfortable fit at first.

Roy had to reason with himself when it came to dealing with his adjutant as he gathered a team of people that he could trust to work under him. She had to be just another member of the team, but both of them knew that she wasn't and that made things all the more difficult. He hadn't expected it to be so hard, but then he hadn't truly expected to see her outside of his office, so willing and ready to follow him after everything that had happened between them. They'd been forced to learn each other all over again.

It was a difficult and strange process, but not unfeasible. They'd gone through it before, after all.

The entire time they had known each other, there had always been implicit rules that they followed – at least in the beginning. Slowly, over time, they would test these rules, toe the line here and then, and bend them until they were either broken or damaged. Roy was always the one that would push the boundaries first. Ever the alchemist, he was always trying to learn more about his world and peoples' places in it. Even at a young age, he had been that way, such a personable kid.

There had been rules set between him and Riza when he'd become her father's apprentice. They were never supposed to be close and were supposed to always be formal with each other. Riza had been given orders to cook and clean after him, and he had been ordered to keep away from his teacher's daughter. Things had stayed like that for a while until Roy grew both too curious and lonely. It was such a sappy thing to think, but he'd grown used to being surrounded by people and loud noises. He was social by nature and there was something about Riza that drew him to her, like a moth to flame.

He started toeing the line slowly, not wanting to startle her. He'd get up earlier to have breakfast with her or stay behind to help her with the dishes after dinner. They found themselves studying together in the same room at night until eventually they were talking. Once that happened, they naturally spiraled into being friends, growing into a close and tight unit right under her father's nose. Their friendship was their little secret. As they got older though, it was harder for them to hide it. She was better than he, impassive and careful, while he grew resilient of his teachings.

By the time he left for the Academy, Roy knew that he didn't think of Riza as just a friend. She meant more to him than that and he hadn't exactly been subtle in the last few months. He couldn't be with her. As time passed, he cared less about the rules set to keep them apart and recklessly ignored them outright at times. He'd take her hand and not let go, he'd sweep her bangs out of her face, he brushed snow out of her hair. He was too close. Leaving her made it all the more apparent that he'd ignored the rules for too long for them to go back. He'd thought, quite illogically for him, that he might remember them again if he kept away from her for long enough.

And then years later Roy found himself staring her in the eyes when he knocked on her door and knew in his heart that he'd been delusional. Those old rules were long gone.

Ishval hit him with a new low blow. As a State Alchemist and Major in the military, Roy found himself beleaguered with new rules concerning Riza that he was forced to follow. He was her superior officer. She hadn't even graduated the Academy yet. In the eyes of their fellow officers, she was still a kid. He remembered thinking that she still looked so young, but her eyes were sharper than ever. Her gaze had always given her an older-than-she-seemed look about her, but now he saw starkness in place of tenacity. He saw acceptance where he had once seen hope.

What he wanted to do more than anything was to pull her into his arms. She would stare down at her clenched fists, confused and angry, and the urge to take her hands in his pulled at his heart. But he couldn't do it. He could do nothing to comfort her except offer her a few words and a pat on the shoulder. That was all that was acceptable between them with their roles in war. He could do no more to soothe her pain than he could his. She was a cadet serving in the ranks under him.

It struck him as ironic that the rules they'd been forced to follow as children had paled in comparison to these new ones. When they were teenagers, if she was upset, he'd hold her against him, his chin propped up on her head as she pressed her face into his chest. He'd breathe in her scent, absentmindedly tracing transmutation circles on her back, until she relaxed in his arms and came back to him. He had been frustrated by his inability to fully comfort her then, held back by the demands to be appropriate.

Those memories were almost laughable to him in Ishval. The most he'd been able to do for her there was place his coat over her when she'd fallen asleep against a wall by the fire and stand watch over her. If he was feeling particularly cruel with himself, he might even say that the most comforting act he'd done for her had been burning the secrets to flame alchemy on her back.

Riza would admonish him for these thoughts, he knew. She would insist that he had only been doing his duty, following the rules, but that only made things sting even more. How could rules be fair when they only managed to hurt them even more?

Even though they had experienced the roles as superior officer and lower ranked officer, they hadn't quite been prepared what it would be like for her to serve directly under him. Roy was forced to see her every day and while he relished it most of the time, he came to find that their close proximity also meant a distance with an ending that was never in sight. She was close enough for him to touch her and yet…

He couldn't.

Their familiarity helped them on the field and at work, but it also wounded them at the same time. He would catch a small smile from her and know exactly what it meant, but he couldn't revel in the simple beauty of it. If someone said something that angered him, his eyes would narrow and he'd twist his mouth and Riza would know that a touch on his elbow would center him, but she couldn't reach out to him. The first time he used his flame alchemy during a mission, she'd actually become startled and while Havoc went to help her and she tried to reassure him that she was fine, Roy had felt entirely helpless. It might as well have been raining.

They knew each other so well – every deep breath, every roll of the eyes, every twist of the lips – and yet it also served to remind them just what they couldn't do for the other.

In time, he knew that it would get easier. They would grow used to their new roles with each other. They would make new patterns and signals. They would follow the rules because this was the path they chose and they both intended to see it through.

But Roy knew – just as Riza knew – that there would also come a time when he started to nudge at the boundary lines set in between them. He would scratch at the edge. He couldn't help himself – blame his curious nature – but he knew that it was because he couldn't help himself with her. She didn't just circle his world; she was at the center of it, enticing him to push more and more every day.

Their fingers would meet while handing papers to one another. His eyes would linger on her just a little longer. Her secret smiles came to him a little easier. Teasing words would be bantered between them. And in between all those things would be the promise that the rules would change between them again. It was only a matter of time and until then Roy would bend them as much as he could. After all, rules were meant to be used as guidelines, not laws.


	78. Ideals and Truth

**Author's Notes:** I live for these small moments between Roy and Edward where they're on the same level with each other, to be honest. Thanks everyone for reading!

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 _78\. Ideals and Truth_

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Sitting in silence wasn't a problem. Roy didn't mind the silence anymore. From what he could remember of his childhood before his parents' deaths, it had been filled with endless energy, his father's contagious laughter, his mother's sweet voice singing him songs in Xingese, his powerful imagination as he played pretend. Upon being taken in by his Aunt Chris, the noises never seemed to end. Living above a bar meant that the place only got louder as night fell. It had been something of a relief to him. He was never alone with a parade of his aunt's girls and the woman herself.

Moving into the Hawkeye Estate had proved problematic, if only because it lacked more than just rowdy noises to crowd his brain. There was only three of them in the house, but it was the distinct lack of warmth that made Roy realize that he hadn't clung to filling his world with noises so much as other people. He had to learn how to deal with silence then and be on his own until he slowly managed to convince Riza to open up to him. By the time he left his alchemy apprenticeship, he'd grown comfortable with silence and had learned how to understand it better, even use it to his advantage.

So no, sitting in the hospital room alone didn't bother Roy in the slightest. Sitting in complete darkness alone, however? Roy knew that he didn't have a fear of the dark and he wasn't afraid of being alone, but somehow the two of those things combined seemed to strike a nerve with him.

The truth was much simpler than that, of course. It wasn't even that he was alone in the dark; it was that Riza wasn't with him and he had no way of seeing her. It shouldn't have mattered if the two of them shared a hospital room or not since he couldn't even see her, but just knowing that she was in the room with him, hearing her breath, hum under her breath, or talk was enough to soothe him. His old dislike of silence came back to haunt him the moment his vision was taken away from him. After all, in a sense, hearing was one of the only ways he could see now.

It had been some time ago that Riza was wheeled out of the room. She'd said that they could do whatever they needed in the room, but the doctor had been insistent. She'd lost a lot of blood and while whatever Princess May Chang had done had saved her, it had still been a precarious situation. Roy had assured her that he would be fine, focusing on the sound of her voice so that he could turn to face her, and then she'd been taken away. It felt like hours ago, but it could have been minutes, if he was honest. He wasn't so good with time these days. The seconds that had spanned in between her throat being slashed and her being healed had felt like a lifetime.

Just as Roy was beginning to feel like things were getting the better of him, his fingers drumming on his legs, the door opened. Despite himself, Roy jerked his head in the direction of the door, even though he couldn't see it or who was walking inside. "Lieutenant?"

"Nope, sorry to get your hopes up, Colonel Bastard."

Roy harrumphed and folded his arms across his chest. "Fullmetal, what are you doing here?"

"I passed the Lieutenant in the hall while getting a snack and she mentioned that you were in here on your own," Edward explained. From the sound of things, the boy was walking towards him as he spoke. A scraping noise let Roy know that Edward was pulling up a chair to plop in. "Can't I check on my former commanding officer?"

"Former?" Roy responded haughtily. "Oh no, you're still under my command until the honorably discharged paperwork goes through."

Edward huffed. "At least you're consistent in your bastardry."

"Thanks for noticing."

Despite the fact that he couldn't see, Roy could feel a shift between him and Edward. Roy had sometimes put on airs to the younger alchemist, if only to rattle him or hide his true intent, but their banter now felt different. It wasn't for any specific reasons; it just was. There was no heat behind their words, no attempts to goad or spite one another, just simple and comfortable banter. It felt…natural. Deep down, there had always been a hint of respect for one another – that was just a given between two powerful alchemists – but there had also been a slight unbalance of power.

Now things felt even between them. They both knew something that very few people knew. They had both seen something that only three other people in Amestris had survived seeing.

Somehow, Roy could sense the uneasy change in the younger man in the room as silence settled over them. He heard Edward clear his throat and shift in his seat. "How…?" The question died on his tongue and he growled in frustration. Roy almost smiled. That was the Edward he knew – fumbling over simple, earnest emotions. He did hate to come off as caring unless it came to his brother. "How are you handling the whole…?"

"The whole being blind thing?" Roy finished dryly. He heard Edward clamp up and could just picture the boy turning red in the face. Edward wasn't known for being tactful. "As well as can be, I guess. You're not the only one getting honorably discharged."

"What do you mean?"

Roy waved a hand in front of his useless eyes. "The military has no need for someone that can't see."

"That's…" Edward slapped his hands on his thighs. "That's not fair!"

This time, Roy did smile. There was no warmth in it, but it wasn't a cold smile either. "That Truth does have a terrible sense of humor, doesn't it?"

"What about all your plans?" Edward demanded. "Lieutenant Hawkeye told me…"

Roy sighed and leaned back against the pillows of his bed. His mind had been filled with so many ideals and visions about the future that he could practically see them – and now, well, now he couldn't see that at all. They were just dreams in the end. Then again, they had been dreams in the beginning too, hadn't they? His talk about his hopes for the future had partially been why Riza had gotten dragged into this whole thing to begin with. He wouldn't be alive today without her though. She'd saved his life far too many times for him to deny that.

"Someone else will have to carry them, it seems," Roy conceded.

"Damnit, it's not right," Edward grumbled. "You didn't even want to open the Gate. You were _forced_. How is that even fair?"

Unable to do much of anything else, Roy shrugged his shoulders. "Whatever it said, I don't think Truth cared about being fair all that much."

Without his sight, Roy had had a lot of time to think about Truth and what lied beyond the Gate. He had trouble falling asleep since he was constantly in darkness, which left his mind to wander. And when he did sleep, he'd see the door yawning opening behind him and black tendrils not unlike Pride's grasping him. He'd see – he'd see so much that it burned his mind's eye and he didn't know what to do with it. Sometimes, waking up to nothing was a relief because of what he'd seen beyond those doors.

"All that knowledge…" Roy shook his head at himself. It felt weird when he looked back on that. He had never been so terrified in his life, reduced to being completely useless, and yet it had been exhilarating as well. He hadn't wanted to be there, but there had been no room in his mind for anything but what Truth gave him. "For a moment, even though I hadn't wanted to open the Gate, with all the knowledge in the universe pouring into my head, I thought I could do everything I'd dreamed of. I thought – no, I _knew_ – that I could save everyone and everything. And then…"

He trailed off. Although he knew that he was being foolish, he also knew that Edward would understand him. He too had opened the Gate willingly so, although ignorantly as well. He had seen what Roy had seen. He had been given what Roy had been given. And he'd also had something taken away. Roy had shaken Edward's actual right hand, but he still had an automail leg. Even so, though he didn't know exactly what had happened to Edward beyond the Gate, Roy had an instinctive idea. He knew the emotions that the other alchemist had felt, having felt them so bitterly himself.

"At the end," Roy began, swallowing so that he could coat his dry throat, "what did you…? Did you see anyone?"

Edward was quiet for a while longer until he finally spoke. "My mom. I saw my mom – or at least, I thought I did. I felt like I was bursting at the seams and then I saw her holding a hand out to me, and I was so happy, so relieved, but… It wasn't her. It was only Truth taking her form. Because that's who I saw Truth as then." He laughed mirthlessly. "I was such a dumb kid."

Roy nodded his head, not in agreement, but to himself. He went silent as he fell into his thoughts. Even though he had been the one to bring it up, Edward didn't bother to ask Roy in return what he had seen. Talking about that strange plane of existence was intimate enough. It made sense that Edward and most likely Alphonse had seen their mother since they had performed human transmutation in an attempt to bring her back to life. But Roy had been forced to do so, and it was an unusual circumstance. It stood that he hadn't seen anyone at all.

But he had and it was partially why he was so strained whenever he was separated from her.

After being pulled through the Gate, every bit of the universe had been poured into his mind. It had ached from the knowledge, burning bright with fever as he felt fear and excitement and knew everything there was. It had been too much though, and he'd thought for sure that he was going to die – it was too much for one man to know, far too much – and then he'd seen her. She had been little more than an outline of a white figure, bright and beautiful, but he had known it was her.

There was Riza, holding out a hand to him, beckoning him to her.

And it made perfect sense to Roy that Truth would take her form. Riza was his truth. She was his light. She was his guide. She was his rock. She was his protector and his hope. It was so damn ironic that Truth would take Riza's form so that she was the last thing he saw, one last bit of light before his sight was taken from him. All the knowledge in the world was given to him, but in that moment, when he reached out to grab her hand, the only thing Roy had cared about was Riza.

"We have so much power as alchemists," Roy said, "that we sometimes forget what it is to simply be human."

"Still flawed in the end," Edward agreed.

"There's some beauty in that though," Roy mused. He may have been confident to the point of arrogance at times, but he knew that he was a deeply flawed man. Truth had been ruthless about that as well. Roy may not have performed human transmutation willingly, but he'd done enough to deserve getting punished, hadn't he? Truth had known that about him too. Maybe it hadn't been far off in his punishment.


	79. Underwater No Futari

**Author's Notes:** Happy FMA Day, everyone! Here's something silly and light to read. Enjoy and thanks!

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 _79\. Underwater no futari_

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Roy stared down at the water like it was a strange creature – no, more like it was his enemy. With him standing at the edge of the pond, his back to her, Riza could not see his facial expression, which was all the better. It wasn't like he was afraid or anything – Roy Mustang was not afraid of a bit of water – but he didn't want her getting any ideas. He was soon to turn seventeen, after all, nearly a man grown. The idea that this made him nervous in the slightest was absolutely ridiculous.

"I can't believe you've never been out here before with me," Riza was saying as she stepped up next to him. "I come here a few times every summer. Where have you been all those times?"

"You know your father," Roy replied, not turning to face her. "He doesn't even realize what season it is, much less care. Any time the sun is up is supposed to be devoted to studying."

Riza snorted in quite an unlady-like manner. "Doesn't seem to have stopped you from procrastinating before."

Shoving any of his uneasy thoughts in the back of his mind, Roy turned to give her a lazy grin. "If I recall correctly, you never minded me interrupting your studies either to have a bit of fun."

Even though her cheeks turned a little pink, Riza did not back down. Instead, she tilted her chin up. "The key difference is that I don't have to pull an all-nighter to complete my studies after doing so." Well, she got him there, though Roy could make the argument that her teachers didn't give her quite as much extensive work and research to learn and read through as his did.

As Riza set about putting their stuff down, Roy turned his attention back to the water. It was true that she had invited him to come here with her a few times, but he'd always turned her down by pointing out that he was swamped with research. He had never lied to her about it – there was always work to be done – but he would have skipped out on any work if she'd asked him to do anything else. The only reason he'd come today was that Master Hawkeye was out of town and Roy was bored out of his mind. Plus, he was a bit curious about the one place that seemed to belong to Riza alone.

Roy rather just wished it didn't have to do with a big, deep pond. He wasn't scared – water wasn't some frightening monster that threatened to swallow him whole – but at the end of the day, he could not deny that it made him slightly uncomfortable. He didn't even know why. Well, that was a lie – he had a vague idea – but for the most part, he was certain that it was the matter of the unknown. There was so much about what lied under the surface of the still water that reflected the sky like glass that he didn't know about. It was probably gross, too, not that he'd ever complain out loud about something being gross.

Mainly though (and he was so ashamed to admit this) it probably had to do with the simple fact that he couldn't…

"You gonna swim in all your clothes or something?" Riza teased.

Roy blinked and looked back over his companion. She'd laid two towels on the ground out in the sun, along with a basket that carried some snacks for them. It really was the perfect day to go swimming. It was hot and sunny, a few clouds speckling the blue sky, along with a light breeze. Everything seemed so idyllic, like a painting. All of that just made Roy want to scowl. No, he wasn't afraid.

"Maybe I am," Roy countered childishly.

Shaking her head at him, Riza went about shimmying out of her shorts and t-shirt so that she was just in her bathing suit. At first, Roy didn't think anything of it. After all, it was just a swimsuit. In all honesty, he'd seen girls in less before. Not on purpose or anything unseemly. The girls at Madame Christmas' could be shameless sometimes and it was like they forgot on purpose that there was a teenage boy in the house. And then there was Vivien, a girl his age from Central, that he'd, well, they hadn't done anything terribly improper and…

Slowly, the realization of what was happening before his eyes struck Roy and he nearly gaped. Riza was, in a sense, taking her clothes off. She was wearing a swimsuit. But he'd never seen her in this level of undress before. She was his teacher's daughter and he'd been warned time and time again to be proper with her. A friendship between them had been forbidden at first until it had become apparent that it would be impossible to separate two lonely teenagers away from each other for long.

Still, Roy had never been anything less than proper with her. Yeah, they teased one another and he took joy in flirting with her so that he could see her blush, but at the end of the day, she was a friend and his teacher's daughter and that was that. She was Riza. She wasn't like all the other girls back at Central that he flirted with. She was his best friend.

And apparently, in the few weeks that he'd been visiting his family in Central, she had begun to grow in ways that he hadn't anticipated.

A little over a year younger than him, Roy sometimes forgot that Riza was growing into being, well, a young woman. And certain things, as his sisters would remind him constantly, happened to girls when they began to grow up. For starters, Roy couldn't remember Riza having so many curves or shapely legs. She wasn't pale, used to running and doing work outside, and her skin had turned into a nice, light, golden tan. Her skin was smoother than he expected it to look. In a matter of seconds, Roy starkly realized that Riza wasn't the young girl he remembered her being and his entire view of her changed very suddenly.

After she took a deep breath (no, bad idea, terrible idea, he had to look away with a choke), Riza jumped into the water. She popped back up quickly, laughing and grinning. "Well, are you coming in?"

Roy forced himself to look back at her and nearly groaned. People were not supposed to look good sopping wet. Why couldn't she have not grown at all? Why couldn't puberty have hit her later? And why did he have to come to the realization now that Riza Hawkeye was actually growing into an attractive young woman? He was a teenage boy. Surely any sort of god could have some mercy on him in this moment.

"I don't…" Roy cleared his throat and turned away from her slightly. This was turning into a humiliating situation fast for far too many reasons. His face was becoming redder by the second.

"Come on, Roy," Riza laughed, splashing water at him. "Nothing in here is going to bite you." She smirked at him in a manner that mirrored his own, something she'd learned from him. What a terrible idea that had been on his part. "At least I promised not to."

"Ha," Roy managed to strangle out.

Riza swam a little closer to shore, giving him a curious look. "Is everything okay?"

No, it most certainly was not. Now that he was thinking about what she'd looked like in a swimsuit, his brain was starting to make awful leaps of logic that would make things horribly awkward for weeks. He wondered what she felt like – if her skin felt as smooth as it looked. And then he wondered if she'd kissed anyone before and, wow, no this was a bad idea. He should just leave now, run back to the house, dignity be damned.

"Roy…" Riza bit her lip. "You do know how to swim, right?"

"Of course I do! I…" Roy stared down at her in horror.

"Oh, Roy, I didn't know," Riza replied in a soft voice. "You can just stay in the shallow end and it'll be fine." She stood up out of the water. "Look, if you're scared, you don't have to–"

Roy practically jumped into action. "I'm not scared!" He didn't mean to shout at her and he certainly didn't mean for his voice to be so high-pitched, but he couldn't help it. Instead, he turned around so that he wasn't looking at her and began to jerk his clothes off as fast as possible. He almost fell on his face as he hopped out of his pants. He wasn't afraid of the water or of the fact that he couldn't swim – but he was afraid of what might happen if she saw just how physically he was reacting to the sight of her, no matter how much he tried to think of anything else.

Maybe he didn't know how to swim, but in that moment, he didn't care. Once he was down to his boxers, Roy jumped in the water, submerging completely, and considered never coming up out of the water again. He could just stay down there and not come up. Even though the water was cold and he felt the blossoming of panic in his chest, he didn't to come up for air. His face burned hot under the water as he mentally scolded himself.

Eventually though, the fact that he was under water and not touching the ground sent a spurt of fear through his brain, and Roy popped back out of the water, damn near flailing and gasping for air. After a moment of panic, his feet kicked the ground and he realized that he wasn't even in a depth of water that was above his head. He dug his feet firmly into the mud and stood up, the water coming to the middle of his chest.

Riza was wading the water in front of him, a look of concern in her eyes. When she caught sight of Roy though, breathing heavily, black hair matted against his head and in his eyes, looking like a fish out of water, the concern left her face and she began to laugh.

"What are you laughing at?" Roy demanded heatedly.

"I just…" Riza had the grace to stop laughing and bit her lip, looking a little sheepish at least. "I wasn't aware that you didn't know how to swim."

"Amestris is landlocked and I'm from Central," Roy grumbled. "There isn't really a need to learn how to swim."

"Well I think there is," Riza replied, "just in case a time does come up with you have to swim."

"Like when a pretty girl goads me into it?"

At that, Riza blushed, but she splashed water at him again. "One might try. Surely there are pools in Central." He knew what she was trying to do. She was insinuating that she wasn't a pretty girl – that the pretty girl in question would be from the city – but that wasn't what he'd meant at all. "If you want, I can teach you. I've known how to swim for as long as I can remember."

Roy considered it. Now that he was in the water, he didn't feel so bad, though the idea of wading into the deep part of the pond made him bubble up with nerves again. Riza could probably barely touch the ground where they were at in the pond now, but she seemed to float with ease. Maybe she was right though. He didn't want to be completely useless should a situation with water ever come up.

"I'd appreciate that," Roy conceded. "Besides, you're a much better looking teacher."

Her cheeks hadn't even had time to turn back to normal before the second compliment, and she reddened in the face all over again. He rather liked the way she looked when she blushed. He'd known that for a while, but for some reason, it felt different now. Sure, he had flirted with other girls before and made them blush, but he found that his heart didn't race at their reactions nearly as much as they did with hers. When Riza turned pink and smiled shyly at him, Roy felt like his heart jump with excitement. It was unusual, but interesting and nice. He could get used to that feeling.


	80. Categorize

**Author's Notes:** This is a prequel/companion piece to Drabble 70 ("Giddiness"). I wanted to write about it, but from Riza's POV. I feel like her thoughts on this would be insanely complicated. Thanks everyone for reading!

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 _80\. Categorize_

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The waiting wasn't the worst part. Deep down, Riza already knew the answer. Somehow she had known the moment the question crossed her mind. Still, she wasn't the type of person that went in to something blindly. She needed absolute confirmation before she jumped to any conclusions or started to make any decisions on the matter, which was also why she'd decided from the start that she would keep this to herself. Though she didn't know exactly how he would react, she knew that Roy would jump at the slightest thought and she couldn't take any chances about her being wrong.

And so Riza sat alone in the white room in the middle of the night, nothing but the sounds of her own breathing and the ticking of a clock on the wall to keep her company.

This should have shaken her to her core – and in many ways, it had – but Riza was a woman that had grown used to compartmentalizing things. She was able to easily dissect a situation so that she could take her emotions out of it and relegate something to rationalities alone. She had to be logical about this, but most importantly, she had to be realistic. That was a harsh reality, but she understood harsh realities better than most. Roy was the dreamer, not her, even if she had managed to get swept up by his dreams. He was the alchemist; she was the soldier. He sought ways to change the world and she fought to carry them out.

To think that she could be a dreamer too – that this could be a dream of her own…

On top of her thighs, Riza balled her hands into fists and then released them, forcing the tension out of her body. She needed to relax. There was no sense in getting worked up about this when it might turn out to be nothing in the first place. Riza hated the feeling of panic – couldn't stand the way it ate at the edge of everything – and so she relied on breathing techniques she'd learned while learning how to shoot, long before she went to any military boot camp. Closing her eyes, she took a few deep breaths, picturing her body swell with air and releasing it, as if the tension would leave her too.

The military had certainly shaped her into a strict woman. She'd been held back by rules even as a child, though Roy had helped her break out of the mold eventually. Nonetheless, she had come to look at herself in a very strict set of categories. It was her way of dealing with life. It helped her make sense of things, even when the world tried its best to be irrational and strike her down.

First and foremost, Riza was a woman. People tended to look over that. They saw the uniform and the carefully constructed way she behaved, and they ignored anything beyond that. What they saw though didn't matter. Riza was proud of being a woman. It gave way to struggles in ways that both frustrated her and pushed her forward. She was in no way shape or form felt ashamed of her gender. She may have come off as very neutral when it came to her job, but it was only because she knew that other people would perceive her differently if she presented herself as a woman first.

The next thing she was though, of course, was a soldier. Once she put on the uniform, she was something else entirely. She had never had the pride that came with being in the military, having been shipped off to Ishval before even finishing the Academy, but that didn't stop her from performing her duties to the top of her capability. Anyone could tell you that Riza was an excellent soldier. She did her job without complaint and she did it well. She followed orders almost resolutely – except when she understood those orders to be stupid. She was punctual and precise. There were plenty of people that wondered how Roy had gotten someone like her to follow him.

And then there were the categories of a soldier that she fell in. She was a sniper, the elusive Hawk's Eye from the Ishval War. Riza had not taken kindly to that nickname when it had first been thrown at her. She'd just been a cadet, not conditioned to the hell of war, and she'd resented being given a silly nickname that reminded her of how easily she killed people. At the gun range, people always stopped to admire her skill, especially new recruits and recently transferred male officers. She could smoke anyone that she'd come across. She'd learned how to use a gun at such a young age that it came naturally to her as an adult.

Her most important title, at least in her mind, was not her military title. Sometimes, even she forgot that she was no longer a Lieutenant, having been promoted to rank of Captain after the Promised Day, but there was one thing that she never forgot. She was Roy Mustang's adjutant, his assistant and bodyguard. She watched over his back, as he had used the secrets from hers to further his goals and destroy their past. She couldn't be his friend anymore, not as they had once been, at least not in public. She put her role as his protector above everything else in her mind, but that didn't mean she was without her weaknesses.

Hence, why she was silently sitting alone in a hospital room now, trying not to fiddle with her fingers. Riza could almost curse herself, but there was no sense in regret now. She was always so careful, so she didn't know how this could have happened, but it appeared as if the universe didn't care about that.

When the door finally opened, Riza somehow managed to sit up straighter than before. She wore an impassive expression as Dr. Knox stepped inside and shut the door behind him, not allowing her tumultuous thoughts to betray her in any way.

"I still don't see why you had to come alone and in the middle of the night," Knox grumbled, seeing right through her façade in a blink of an eye.

Riza didn't know how he managed to do that, considering normally only Roy could sense what she was thinking when she was like this. But maybe it was in the stiffness of her body, the tight grip of her fingers as she clasped her hands together in her lap, and her unwavering eyes. This was the image of a person holding themselves together very firmly. Knox was probably familiar with that image, having seen it in so many soldiers during the War. It was easy to dismiss him since he hadn't actually served, but he'd seen the more gruesome parts.

"I thought it would be best," Riza admitted. "I didn't…"

"You didn't want people to find you here," Knox finished for her. She nodded her head. "I don't know why I'm surprised. You're a part of Mustang's crew. Secretive behavior is part of his job requirements."

Riza breathed through her nose, forcing herself to stay calm no matter what. When these thoughts had started to plague her, she didn't know what to do. There were very few people that she could trust with this kind of information and even fewer that she could trust to help her with it. She remembered that Knox was working in Central at the civilian hospital now as a surgeon again. She'd taken a chance coming here when he was on rotation and asking for his help, but to his credit, he hadn't turned her down, just made a mild complaint about never being able to escape Roy Mustang and then telling her to follow him to an empty part of the hospital.

"The results?" Riza asked quietly, no longer able to beat around the bush. It wasn't like her anyways, but for the first time in years, she felt disquieted and scared. She hadn't felt this unsure of herself since she'd been forced out of Roy's command and under Bradley's.

Knox eyed her for a moment. "Positive."

Riza closed her eyes and gripped the material of her skirt tightly. Her throat constricted painfully, making it even more difficult for her to breathe. In that moment, all she could see was black, both in her eyes and her mind. It scared her even more than she thought possible. Of course she'd somehow known what the results would be, but that didn't make the confirmation any less terrifying. A weaker person might have cried, but she didn't know if she could do that, at least not with Knox in the room. She didn't know if she wanted to, honestly. The fear sitting in her gut was washed away by elation and then transformed into shame, which then turned into happiness and finally settled on just plain astonishment, both good and bad.

In all her life, Riza had never considered that she might fall into this role. She had truthfully never imagined that she could become a mother. She was so used to taking life; it felt odd that she could give life as well.

"I'm assuming you haven't told the father," Knox said.

Riza opened her eyes to look at him almost wryly. He wore a blank face, but she knew what he was thinking and she was rather grateful that he hadn't spoken the words aloud. "No, I haven't. I wanted to be sure first."

"Parenthood is difficult as hell, maybe even more so than rebuilding a country," Knox pointed out. He knew. They were the worst kept secret in Amestris apparently, except when it came to the upper brass. Riza had to fight the urge to put her face in her hands. What was he going to think? What would he say? They had been so careful and yet this had still happened. Was it a cruel twist of fate or was it destiny or just damn irony? "Do you think he's up for the job?"

"I don't know," Riza confessed, "but he…he hasn't failed me so far."

This was going to complicate things. Riza knew that, out of everything that could happen right now, her being pregnant was one of the biggest wrenches that could be thrown in their plans – in _his_ plans. He did not need to be saddled with a kid or, even worse, a pregnant adjutant. She didn't want to ruin all that they'd carefully worked for, not when he was so close. He was so close to his goals, just months away, and then this happened. She was so scared that he would resent her for this, even if he denied it. And she was scared...

God, she was so scared that she wasn't good enough. Riza could barely remember her mother's face, much less what it had been like to be loved as a child. Her father had been distant at best, cold and cruel at his worst. What did she know of being a parent, of being a mother? There had been Edward and Alphonse, but she could not claim to have been exactly motherly towards them. She had been very protective of them and still cared about them to this day, enjoying all the times she saw them and their growing family. Though even she could admit that she'd felt a spark of longing when she'd seen Edward bouncing his son on his lap and shown him pictures of Winry with the kids the last time he'd visited, she had reasoned that either her time would come or it wouldn't.

As with anything when it came to the parts of the future that only involved the two of them, she and Roy were very careful to never talk about it. They enjoyed the time they had with each other at that present time and that was it. Really it was more than they could ask or hope for. They would always feel like punishing themselves for the sins of their past and the easiest way to do that was by keeping themselves apart, from never being truly together in the sense that both of them knew that they wanted.

Together though, they had created this. Together they'd created life when they'd once only caused death.

A sudden hand on her shoulder startled Riza out of her thoughts. She looked up and caught Knox wearing a rather gentle expression, which looked strange on the hard man. "If I know the man, I can tell you right now that you don't need to worry," he told her. "It's obvious as hell that he loves you. And he's not just a hell of a soldier or alchemist, but a damn good man, even if he's arrogant and obnoxious as all get out."

Riza allowed a small smile to cross her face. "Hopefully he doesn't get worse once he finds out."

Knox pulled his hand back to run his fingers through his nearly gone hair. "He can't be any worse than his friend Hughes. The man would pull out pictures of his daughter to show me right over a corpse. Everyone has their way of coping, but that was absurd."

Despite herself, a few chuckles tumbled out of Riza's mouth. That was just like Maes Hughes. No doubt Roy would think the same things once he was given the news. Whenever it came to fatherhood, Hughes was always the example to live by. Thinking about the man made Riza feel both sad and relieved. Sad because she knew that Roy would wish desperately that his best friend was here so that he could ask for advice and celebrate. Hughes had harped onto Roy so long about the joys of fatherhood and marriage with Roy scoffing at him in return. It was terrible that they couldn't finally come together on that.

But then thinking of Hughes made her think of Elicia, his daughter, and Riza felt like she could breathe again. She knew how much Roy loved the girl and how much of the world she thought of her Uncle Roy. He helped Gracia take care of her as much as possible, though he knew that he could never be a substitute for her father. But she thought of the way his eyes would light up whenever Elicia hugged him and the soft smile on his face whenever he watched one of her plays at school, and she knew.

If she could be a mother, then Roy could be a father.


	81. Footsteps

**Author's Notes:** Thank you so much for the reviews! It was lovely to wake up to them. This drabble is a sequel to **Drabble 80 ("Categorize")** and **Drabble 70 ("Giddiness")** , so you can kind of guess what it's about. It is also quite possibly the cutest thing that I have ever written. I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it!

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 _81\. Footsteps_

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It was a well-known fact that Roy took his sleep very seriously, almost more so than anything else in his personal life. In fact, if a doctor were to look into it, he may have been diagnosed with some sort of sleeping disorder, considering the many places and times that the man was found sleeping. He was a General now, but that didn't seem to stop him from taking a catnap every once in a while when he could get away with it.

Apparently, along with flame alchemy, one of his other prime talents was being able to follow asleep in any place at any given time. All of his subordinates had walked in on him sleeping at his desk, though none of them got nearly as frustrated with him as Riza. Even Fullmetal had once burst in while Roy was sleeping, which had nearly caused the boy to get his eyebrows singed off.

What most people didn't know was that Roy had trouble sleeping at night. He would toss and turn for the better part of most hours, get up to have a drink, or sometimes get stuck doing research. The last one was the most to blame. He was still an alchemist, but the abilities he'd gained after being forced through the Gate had opened up his alchemy in a variety of ways that he'd never known before. That meant countless hours of research, like he was a student all over again. It felt exhilarating, to be honest, until daylight came and he realized that he'd only had an hour of sleep before work.

That had been before the biggest change of his life.

It was nearing one when Roy dragged himself into the bedroom. He couldn't pull all-nighters like he used to. Admitting his age was one thing, but he'd gone through too many in the past year to ever want to do them again. Research be damned, he needed some sleep. He couldn't sleep at work, not when people now knew that he wasn't the lackadaisical, cock-sure bastard that he'd been pretending to be.

(Well, okay, he still didn't like to do boring paperwork, he was just as confident in himself, and Edward Elric would proclaim that Roy was a bastard all the way to his soul.)

Roy was quiet as he pulled the covers back and slipped into bed. As if out of instinct, knowing that he was there, Riza turned her body so that she was facing him. She hummed in her sleep and nuzzled against him, so that he could put an arm around her. Most likely she was partially awake, but she'd fall back into a deep sleep in a matter of moments. He took in her warmth and reveled in the softness of her body against his, pressing his face into her light hair and breathing deeply so that it tickled his nose. Roy was not ashamed to admit that he got the best sleep of his life when she was in bed next to him. How had he managed to sleep at all without her?

Just as he was about to drift off to sleep, Roy heard the dreaded noise. There was a reason he was always so quiet when he went to bed if he stayed up late. He kept his eyes shut and stayed very still, hoping against hope that he had just been hearing things. The house was silent for a moment. Roy relaxed his body. And then he heard the noise again: the soft pitter-patter of footsteps on the hardwood floor.

A year ago, Roy would've jumped out of bed at the sound of something like that. He would've grabbed the ignition gloves out of his nightstand drawer and prepared himself for a fight. Now all he wanted to do was grab the blanket and pull it over his head and groan internally.

There was no mistaking the sound of the door creaking open slightly with just enough room for someone small to wiggle inside. Roy knew what was coming and yet he still didn't dare move or open his eyes. Maybe, if he pretended to be asleep or dead, nothing would happen. Some animals were like that, right? They couldn't see their prey unless it was moving. There were even animals that played dead so that they wouldn't get attacked. Yeah, this could work. All he had to do was lie completely still and not breathe.

More footsteps came from behind, this time much softer on the carpet and more cautious as well. One of these days, they'd be as silent as Riza's and he'd probably have a heart attack while in bed. Wouldn't that be ironic? Well, he was at his most vulnerable when he was in bed.

Finally, Roy felt a poke in his back and he knew that all hope was lost. The jig was up. He'd been found out. Roy wondered if the monster had just been waiting for him to lie down so that he could get up. It made perfect sense that the universe would see fit to give him a child that was determined to always be awake.

Letting out a sigh, Roy pulled his arms away from Riza and turned around on his other side, so that he could get a proper look at his attacker. There was his son, looking at him with the most innocent of eyes. But they weren't the eyes of an innocent; they were the eyes of a child that knew exactly what he was doing by coming in here and keeping his father awake. "What are you doing up, Bug?" Roy asked quietly.

"Story," his son insisted.

"Didn't Mommy read you a story when you went to bed?"

His son, ever the smooth talker, reached out to place a chubby hand on Roy's nose. "Daddy."

And really, that was all it took. Roy had spent years practicing how to convince people to do what he wanted. He had learned from the best, from Madam Christmas to Grumman. He became known as a silver tongue, able to woo any woman away from another man. It was his calling card. Roy was one manipulative bastard and he was damn good at it. Yet he was outwitted by a one year-old with a simple word. Now this kid was the real master manipulator. Learning how to speak was only making it worse.

"Okay, let's not wake up Mommy then." Roy carefully eased himself up, swinging his feet over the side of the bed and returning the covers over Riza. She frowned in her sleep and grasped hold of the pillow he'd been using. Roy felt a stab of jealousy towards the pillow. Lucky inanimate object. The negative feeling went away the moment he looked back down at his son. A one year-old that didn't seem to understand the concept of sleeping, but he could be just as quiet and reserved as his mother. He held out his little arms, making grasping movements with his hands, and Roy knew to pick him up. "C'mon then, one more story for the little Bug."

Roy's own footsteps outside of the bedroom and down the hall were almost silent. It came from years of being in the military and going on stealth missions. He imagined that either he or Riza would teach their child to do the same, unable to stop themselves. They'd make a game out of it, playing tag and sneaking around the house. Already he loved to watch Roy sneak up on Riza whenever she was doing dishes. He'd watch with big, dark eyes, his hands over his mouth to keep himself quiet, and would then burst into laughter whenever Riza turned around and startled Roy instead.

Once they were in the living room, Roy went about finding a story to read. He needed one that was short, but long enough to keep his son satisfied or the boy would demand another and Roy would be up until sunlight. Oh sure, Roy could deny requests about this and that at work, but his son could ask for a chocolate milkshake for breakfast and Roy would try to convince Riza that it was okay since there was still technically milk in it. The child was absolutely ruthless when it came to his manipulations of his father.

His fingers stopped on one of the thin children's books on the shelf and pulled it out. "How about this one?"

When his son's face lit up, Roy was struck by how much it looked like pictures for his own childhood. Madame Christmas only had a few lying around from his parents' old photo album, but they were enough to make it more than obvious that this boy could have been no one's but Roy's. They had the same lopsided grin and his eyes widened in the same way whenever he was excited or startled. "Draggys!" his son proclaimed, pointing at the picture on the book.

"Yup, dragons, your favorite." Roy would never cease to be amazed at how well he could understand his son. The boy was still learning so many things, learning how to speak and communicate, and yet there were times when both Roy and Riza knew exactly what their son wanted from a single cry. Riza was better at it than him, but she teased that it was because she'd spent years practicing it with him. Still, he found himself excited when his son would say something nonsensical and Roy knew exactly what it was. In a way, it was much like the silent communication that he and Riza had worked out after years of being with each other, except on a more scaled down level.

Roy had to get a few things in order to get ready. He turned on the lamp by the couch, grabbed a blanket, and nudged a pillow in the corner of the couch. He set the book down on the arm and then his son on the couch. But right when he went to get ready to sit down, his son shook his head.

"Nuh uh."

Roy arched an eyebrow. "I'm not allowed to sit down?"

"Not draggy," his son told him.

No one else in the world would have understood what this meant. Maybe Riza would have had an idea, but she would say nothing on the matter. This was for father and son alone. It was the one thing that Roy had been hesitant about when it came to his son, even scared, but Riza had been the one to help him relax. He didn't want his son to be afraid of him in any way. The truth was though, who he was, the Flame Alchemist, was a frightful and terrifying thing. And so, in the dead of night when it was just the two of them and Roy read his son stories, he let him be himself in front of his son.

Except a one year-old didn't quite understand what alchemy was and had gotten other sorts of ideas concerning his father. Roy would never admit it, but he'd never felt so relieved in his life than when he'd first produced a flame in front of his son and the boy had looked at him with such awe and wonder – but not at the flames themselves. It wasn't the fire that his son loved so much; it was his father.

Roy nodded his head and held up a finger to let his son know to stay on the couch. He slipped back into the bedroom, carefully pulling out a single ignition glove from the nightstand, and then hurried back into the living room where his son was still waiting for him. Roy sat down on the couch and let his son crawl into his lap before pulling the blanket over them. As he quietly read the story about dragons, he played with the mop of black hair on his son's head. It was just as unruly as his. Already Riza had despaired that it would be difficult to manage whenever trying to take nice pictures.

Whenever the story took a turn where the dragon would breathe fire, Roy gently rubbed his fingers together, so that there was a very quiet snap and a small flame would burst into life above his palm. His son would gasp in delight as the flames reflected off of his dark eyes. It was incredible how much he looked like Roy. It was just simple genetics, but it still astounded him. They were lucky that he'd inherited Riza's nature. He was quiet – a hell of a lot quieter than Fullmetal's rowdy bunch – but it was his gentleness and earnestness that got the best of Roy. Already so much like her at such a young age, it was beyond anything. He laughed just like her too and that made Roy smile the most.

As the story came to a close, Roy noticed that his son was finally starting to nod off. His head bounced up and down as he struggled to stay awake and his eyes began to droop. He hadn't even gotten to the last page by the time the soft sounds of breathing let Roy know that his son was asleep. By then though, Roy was fighting with his own drowsiness. He took the ignition glove off, tucking it into his pants pocket, and set the book aside so that he could turn off the light. Just a few more minutes to make sure that his son was asleep and Roy would get up to put the kid to bed and then clamber back into his own.

Of course that never happened. In those minutes of waiting in the dark, Roy lost the fight to his own exhaustion and ended up falling asleep on the couch with his son curled up against him. When Riza woke up and found them asleep on the couch in the morning, Roy was lying on the couch with both his arms wrapped protectively around his son so that he wouldn't fall off the couch, and the little one was sound asleep on his chest, holding onto one of Roy's fingers. Her General could sleep anywhere, but the truth was that while their son had a habit of never sleeping, he'd inherited that same ability from his father.


	82. Words that Fade Away in the Chaos

**Author's Notes:** I've actually never seen that movie, **Lin**. Perhaps I should check it out. Sounds like I'd enjoy it for sure. Also, I've officially written all 100 drabbles, so you all won't have to worry about me suddenly quitting on this. I hope you all enjoy and thank you for reading!

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 _82\. Words that Fade Away in the Chaos_

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Riza was not happy with the way things were going.

She had known right from the get go that this was going to be a disaster, but there was little that could be done about it. They'd scouted the area beforehand, finding whatever hiding spots they could, but she knew that they hadn't been able to find everything in the two hours that they'd been given. Even if she could have found them all, there were so many other extraneous variables involved. So many things could go wrong and it was her job to make sure that none of those things happened.

"You're being a bit melodramatic, Captain," Roy pointed out, glancing at her out of the corner of his eyes before he turned back to his reflection.

Riza shot him a glare that she knew he could see in the mirror and then looked back outside the windows. From her spot, she could already see that there were more people crowded outside than anticipated. This was going to be problematic for sure. She could feel it in her bones. "It's my job to worry, sir."

"And it's just a jaunt to the car," Roy replied. He swept a hand over his hair again. It was smoothed back, as he always wore it whenever he dressed up. He looked impeccable in his uniform, the ceremonial sword at his hip making him appear sharper. Despite his carefree attitude about the situation, she did notice that he was wearing one of his ignition gloves on his right hand whereas his left was covered with a plain white glove. "We've done a lot more than that throughout the years and in a lot more dangerous places. Besides, this is a time to celebrate."

"It's also a time of unrest," Riza reminded him. "Not everyone is ecstatic about the treaty with Drachma. There are sure to be some protestors and some of them have already proven to be violent in their opposition."

When Roy turned to face her completely, she stepped up so that she could fiddle with his lapel and adjust the metals pinned on his jacket, though everything was already perfectly in order. Still, she felt the need to do something with her hands and she wanted to be close to him. He didn't comment on it though and merely gazed at her, though there was a ghost of a smile on his face.

After she dusted any invisible dust off the stars on his shoulders that showed his rank, Riza stilled herself and looked up at him, sliding her hands down to the front of his jacket. "I don't want to take the chance that a dissident thinks this is the perfect opportunity to take a pot shot at the newly appointed General that spearheaded the controversial treaty."

Roy took his hands in hers, never looking away from her eyes. "It's a minute long walk to the car and then we're on our way home. Fuery is already in the car. Havoc is on the roof with an excellent view of the area. Breda is in the crowd." He gave her that stupid lopsided grin of his that managed to get her heart racing even after all these years. What an infuriating man. He'd only gotten worse with age. "And you're with me. That's all I need to know that I'm safe."

Riza huffed and pulled her hands out of his as Falman stepped into the room. "I really wish you wouldn't be so cavalier about this, sir. There were threats made against your life."

"Oh, I remember them," Roy said, that grin not leaving his face. "Have I ever told you how cute you look when you're angry?"

The man was absolutely impossible. Riza let him know just how she felt about such a remark by casting him her most withering look and then turning on her heels and walking away from him. She barely listened as Roy and Falman spoke behind her, instead keeping her eyes intent on the crowd. There were so many people out there. She could hear them chanting, mostly in support of Roy. He was beloved by the people of Amestris, especially after what he'd done years ago on the Promised Day and then later in his efforts to rebuild the country. He'd proven to be a man for the people. And yet…

There was no pleasing everyone. In their efforts to change and help, they had been forced to work against a lot of what had been laid as the groundwork for building Amestris. While Fuhrer Grumman proved to be an excellent leader, it was often that Roy became the focus for most of the changes that were occurring in the government. At least he was the most vocal and he never backed down. He was wonderful with the people, but he was also quite talented at making enemies as well. That was what worried Riza. They'd spent so much of their time in the military working from behind the scenes. Now he was out in the open and it made him an easier target than when he worked in the dark.

Light reflected off the side view mirror from the car below let Riza know that they were ready. "Sir."

"Let's get on with the show," Roy sighed as he stepped next to her. He relaxed his body and put on a warmer mask than the serious one she'd become familiar with. There would be plenty of reporters and people taking pictures. He wanted to appear open and warm to the people outside greeting him. When he was at work, he was all serious. There were so many different types of masks he wore depending on the situation. This was an easy one, but it was newer as well.

As soon as the doors opened and they walked outside, there was an immediate change in the mob of people waiting outside. There were flashes of cameras going off and reporters shouting questions over one another to the point where none of them could be understood. Then there was the cry of the crowd, unorganized chanting and calling out for the Flame Alchemist, the Hero of Amestris. (The name stung a little – it sounded too familiar to his old title – but he took it with a gracious smile.) Most of the people were happy and smiling, jumping up and pushing against the barriers to get a better view. There were a few people in the back waving protest signs and making their own chants, but they could barely be seen or heard.

"See, it's not so bad," Roy said under his breath as he leaned close to her ear. Riza could barely hear him, but she understood the sly look he sent her very well. She was half in mind to push him down the steps, but instead took a breath and fell back slightly so that she was behind him instead of next to him. That seemed to take him down a peg. He'd come to silently hate it when she walked behind him, urging her to walk at his side more often than not, but it was her duty to protect him in public, not be with him.

They were nearing the car when a child tumbled in between one of the barriers and fell on the ground in front of them. Out of instinct, Roy hurried over and bent down to help the young boy up. Riza's heart jumped, but there was nothing to do be done. Everything seemed fine. The boy couldn't have been more than seven, gaping up in wonder at the General like he was the sun, and Roy was smiling fondly at the child, asking him if he was okay. A woman, presumably the boy's mother, began to gush and thank Roy and apologize at the same time.

It was only a glance, something she only recognized because she was so familiar with them, but when Riza saw the muzzle of a pistol in a man's hand behind the boy's mother, her heart damn near stopped.

"Gun!" Riza screamed, rushing forward and pulling out her own service weapon.

Time both seemed to slow down and speed up. The crowd immediately panicked, pushing in on itself and fighting as each with the fear that one of them had the gun. She cursed herself for shouting, but it was all she could've done to warn the General. She needed to get him out of harm's way. And of course the man didn't think of himself, but instead picked up the boy and curled his body around the child's, using his own body as a shield. Riza could almost scream at him.

There was only maybe three meters in between her and Roy, but it felt like a mile. Right before she could get a clear shot on the man holding the gun, there was a loud pop and everything else was lost in a void of screams.

"General!"

In the second after the gun went off, the crowd went absolutely wild. The barriers were broken and people swarmed in her vision, blocking the General from her sight. She had to fight against a sea of people in order to reach him, shouting at people to get out of her way and holding her gun up.

"General!" she yelled again, but she could barely hear herself over the chaos. She heard another shot from somewhere in the mob and the wave of people moved in the confusion of trying to get away from the gunfire. Her throat constricted with fear, but there was no time for that. She could only pray that Havoc had an eye on the General from his viewpoint on top of the room.

The moment she spotted a crouched dark blue figure in the mob, her heart leapt into her throat. That was Roy's military uniform. She shoved her way through the people, yelling at them to get out of her way, until she was only a few feet away. "Sir, are you–?"

Riza reacted out of instinct more than anything else. There was the man she'd seen earlier, pointing a gun right at Roy, who was still holding onto the little boy, an almost blank expression on her General's face. Discharging her weapon would only make things worse, and so she physically threw herself at the attacker, knocking him off balance. She grabbed at the man's wrists and shoved them up in the air right when the gun went off, the bullet flying uselessly in the air. She elbowed the man in the face, still holding onto his wrists, and used his own momentum to jerk the gun out of his hands. Before he could stagger back to his feet, she kneed him in the groin and then trained his own gun on him.

"Down on your knees and hands behind your head or I _will_ shoot you," Riza snapped. Wisely, the man did as he was told. She forced herself not to take a deep breath. All she wanted to do was turn around to look at Roy and see if he was okay, but she couldn't afford to look away from the gunman. "Are you alright, sir? Sir?"

"I'm fine, Captain," a slightly muffled response came from behind her.

Breda appeared in the crowd, working his way towards them. Once he was with them, she relinquished the control over the gunman to him as he cuffed the would-be assassin, leaving Riza to do what she truly needed. Once the man was in custody, Breda nodded his head and Riza relaxed, dropping the weapon to her side.

When Riza spun around to face Roy, she nearly cried out in relief. There was Roy, looking a little frazzled but not injured. She willed herself not to rush over to him and run her hands along his body to check for any injuries, but it was difficult. He stood up straight, still holding tightly to the boy as the kid cried into his jacket, effectively staining it with his tears. Her hands were nearly shaking as she stood in front of him, her eyes raking over his figure, but the only thing out of place was his hair.

"You weren't shot," Riza breathed in relief.

Roy ran a soothing hand down the boy's back as he searched the crowd for the child's mother. "No, I moved just in time after you gave out your warning."

"We need to get you out of here right now." Riza scanned the area. People were still running around in fear and confusion, but many had stopped to look around. There was an older woman on the ground, clutching at her leg, and a man howling in pain. It looked as if they had been shot on accident instead of the actual target. "There could be more assailants and we're completely out in the open."

A pained expression crossed Roy's face. "The boy's mother–"

"You're the top priority."

"I can't just leave–"

"Michael!" The woman from before ran over to them. Immediately, the boy pulled away from Roy and reached out. Roy handed the child over and watched as mother and son clutched each other tightly. The woman babbled incoherently for the most part, too focused on her son to realize who was standing next to, but that was fine. Roy watched the two of them with a strange expression on his face. It almost looked wistful.

Riza tugged on his jacket. "Will you please follow me now? I need you out of here."

The words stirred Roy out of his thoughts and he looked at her with surprisingly wide eyes. He nodded his head, coming back to himself, and they hurried to the car. Riza stayed only a foot behind him, returning to the use of her service weapon, and kept a sharp eye out for anything suspicious. Now that they were away from the crowd, Havoc would have a better view of them, but so would any other snipers. She was almost infuriated by the idea that a sniper might try anything against the General. That was hers.

Once Roy was in the car, Riza jumped in as well and tapped Fuery on the shoulder. "Let's move to safe house three. Let the others know. I don't want to take any chances."

"Yes, sir," Fuery replied before punching on the gas. As he drove, he gave the directions to the rest of the team on the secure line he'd personally set up.

It was only until they were a few minutes away from the scene when Riza finally allowed herself to sit back in her seat and relax. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. This had been such a shit show. The press was going to have a field day with this. She knew that Roy would hate not being there to make sure everyone was okay, especially the people that had been shot in his stead, but she needed him safe. She felt riled up as it was. In her own panic, she had been absolutely worthless and it had nearly cost Roy everything. With her eyes shut, she could clearly picture Roy twisting his body and pulling the boy against his chest, leaving his back wide open.

Riza's eyes suddenly snapped open when she felt Roy take her hands in his. When she turned to look at him, she caught the gentle look on his face and the worry in his eyes. It almost made her want to cry. He had nearly been shot and he was the one concerned about her. Why did he have to be like this? Why couldn't he just be a simple man instead of absolutely infuriating?

"Hey, everything's fine," Roy told her in a low voice only meant for her. "I'm fine. You're fine."

"You left your back completely open, sir," Riza blathered in such a pathetic voice.

Roy just smiled slightly at her. "That's what I've got you for, isn't it?"

"Idiot," Riza mumbled, squeezing his hands in return. The smile didn't leave Roy's face. He merely let go of her with one hand and used it to brush her hair out of her face. She could curse the man, she truly could. He had no right to look at her like this, like she was only good thing left in the world, not after the stunt he'd just pulled. And yet she didn't tell him to stop and she didn't let go of him either. Not yet. Just a few more minutes of respite and things would be settled between them again.


	83. Crowd

**Author's Notes:** What's a Royai drabble series without one about a military ball? Also, let it be known, I am so weak about writing Riza and Havoc as friends. I've written about Roy being jealous, so I figured it was Riza's turn. Thank you everyone for reading!

* * *

 _83\. Crowd_

* * *

Despite the fact that the dress was perfectly fine and covered her up, Riza couldn't help but tug uncomfortably at the material. She hadn't wanted to wear a dress in the first place, but rules were rules, and she would be damned if they didn't allow her in here simply because she wasn't wearing a bloody dress. Still, it had taken minutes for the blush to leave her face when she'd stepped into the office and caught sight of Roy's face. He hadn't stared at her outright like that in what felt like ages. It hadn't made her feel uneasy so much as too warm and she did not want to linger on those thoughts.

Military functions like this were absolutely atrocious. She'd secretly hoped that with a new Fuhrer that these events would go away, but they were the easiest way to fundraise money for the military. Every time a gala was held, all the bigwigs were in attendance. Almost more importantly, so were many of the prized State Alchemists that the government had in the bag. Roy was one of the most prominent guests. Not only was he a young soldier quickly rising in the ranks, but he was the Flame Alchemist. The government just loved to show him off.

Things were a little different now with Grumman as Fuhrer, but apparently not different enough where they didn't need these ridiculous events. For a few hours, Riza had actually considered trying to use her status as the man's granddaughter to wheedle out of having to actually attend in this get up, but the old codger had been delighted at the idea of seeing her dress up. According to him, she'd looked just like her mother when she showed up and greeted him tonight.

There would be no getting out of this. She'd known right from the start that she would be attending, seeing as how Roy would undoubtedly be there. He was one of the two full Generals in Amestris now and had been a part of the group that saved the country. If Olivier Armstrong was going to be there, he needed to be there as well. Plus, Grumman had more or less demanded that his golden boy show up.

Roy didn't care for the galas either, but he was absolutely perfect at them. Madam Christmas had done something right in raising him. Every man with a bit of money found Roy to be an excellent friend and every woman found him terribly charming. Riza was almost certain that half the money that was donated to the military by the end of the night came from Roy's schmoozing. He laid on the charm perfectly and came off as genuine, even when he grumbled about the people that hung over him later on.

The only problem Riza had found was that she wasn't allowed to wear her uniform. The only people in uniform were the Fuhrer and any Generals present. She was supposed to be Roy's bodyguard and yet she couldn't wear her damn uniform. It was absurd. Normally, she took orders without complaint or she didn't follow them because they were idiotic – but this time, she'd protested more than once. In the end though, she'd clamped her mouth shut and allowed Rebecca to take her dress shopping. At least her best friend got to enjoy the moment. Hell, everyone seemed to enjoy seeing Riza in a dress except for herself.

And so that was how Riza found herself in the corner of a large ballroom, eyes darting through the crowd as she tried to find the General. The man had slipped away from her when an older woman wearing what looked like the remains of a fox on her shoulders asked if he would dance with her. Riza did her best to not fold her arms across her chest and scowl, but it was a little difficult. She'd only been able to fit one gun and two knives on her person with this dress. She should've gone with the light green one, but…

Oh, who was she kidding? She'd loved this blue dress the moment she put it on. The color reminded her of her uniform – a rich, deep blue – but the material was soft and fit her so well. It was long and a little loose at the bottom with a slit and then cinched at the waist where the top was covered in beautiful patterns. As usual, it covered her back and most of her chest, but it was sleeveless and still managed to show off her curves. Riza could complain about not being in her uniform all she wanted, but she did like the dress still.

"You look like someone stepped on your foot."

Riza rolled her eyes to the left. There was Havoc, giving her a stupid grin. He hadn't been able to wear his uniform as well, but he hadn't minded it nearly as much as she did. After all, he did clean up nice in a black suit, though Roy had had to fix his tie on the way here. When it came to choosing two people to guard him, Roy had chosen her and Havoc. Not only were they both good shots and trained for fieldwork, but they worked well together and got along.

That didn't mean Riza wasn't below kicking him in the shin.

"I wasn't aware that you enjoyed these functions so much," Riza replied in an almost snippy tone. "Being surrounded by a bunch of snotty men and women that have never served a day in their life in the military…"

Havoc laughed. "Oh, no, I don't enjoy that at all. Getting looked down on as just a country bumpkin that joined the military because I didn't know what else to do is never fun." He held up a plate that was piled impossibly high with food. "But have you tried these quiches? They're delicious. I think they flew in some chefs from all over the country." He picked up one of the hors d'oeuvres and popped it into his mouth. The man seemed positively delighted with the food. "I'll take free food any day."

As a waiter passed by, Havoc picked a flute of champagne off the man's tray. Without missing a beat, Riza took the glass right out of his hands and turned to set it down on another passing waiter's tray. "We're on the job," she pointed out. Havoc didn't even look bothered. He just grinned at her again, like he'd been aware the entire time that she would react in that way and he'd done it on purpose, and then ate some more food.

Riza turned her eyes back to the crowd, but she couldn't find Roy. That made her heart race a little. She was sure that he was fine, but she hated losing him in a place like this. For the most part, these events were dull. The most action Roy got was rich widow squeezing his butt when she thought no one was looking. (To this day, the story of Roy getting assaulted by Mrs. Ludwig was Havoc's favorite to reenact at bars.) That didn't make Riza any less cautious about her job to protect him.

"10 o'clock, in front of the pillar," Havoc pointed out, knowing exactly what was on her mind. He squinted, as if that would give him a better look. "Dancing with… I think it's that woman that has married three Generals in the past ten years – Carla something."

Three Generals? The woman certainly had a type. Also it was probably how she'd managed to get an invite to the gala. Riza snapped her eyes in the direction. Roy was exactly where Havoc had said, smoothly dancing with a blonde-haired woman. Though she was older, she looked remarkably attractive in a glimmering green dress and she was an excellent dancer as well. She was laughing too, most likely at something Roy said because of the way he was smirking back at her.

Riza felt something tug inside her chest and squashed the feeling away immediately. Still, it was hard to ignore how close they were on the floor, the way his hand rested on the small of her back and her hand fit in his other while her hand sat on his shoulder, idly playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. It was becoming a lot harder for her to ignore that uncomfortable feeling. The urge to snatch a glass of champagne and down it flashed in her mind, but no, she couldn't do that. She was just being ridiculous. It was the dress and the people.

"We could make them jealous," Havoc offered good-naturedly.

He was a good friend, and it was such a simple thing, but it did make Riza smile. "When was the last time you danced, Havoc?"

"Like this? Never." Havoc chuckled and gave her a wry smirk. "But I can throw a mean hoedown."

The joke was so unexpected that Riza actually laughed out loud and brought a hand to her mouth when a few people looked back at them with sneering expressions. She gave them an apologetic look and waited for them to turn back around before she slapped Havoc on the arm.

Honestly, she was grateful that she wasn't alone here. There were a few other lower ranked people like them mingling about, like Lieutenant-Colonel Miles, who had come with General Armstrong, and also Lieutenant-Colonel Alex Armstrong, but she wasn't nearly as close to any of them as she was Havoc. Though he didn't say anything out loud, he knew what was bothering her and he knew not to bring it up outright as well. She didn't want to admit that she was upset by seeing Roy dance so closely with another woman, especially one as attractive (and available) as that one, but she was and that was frustrating in itself. She had no right to be bothered by such a stupid thing. Hell, if he wanted to go home with the woman tonight, he could. He was free to do so.

Hell, why had she thought of that? Now she was feeling worse all over again.

Subconsciously, Riza tugged at her dress again, like it would somehow make things better. With Roy so focused on his dance partner, it was easy for her to forget the way he'd looked at her tonight. It had just been the two of them in the room, but it had felt like it was only the two of them in the world. His eyes had been dark and very open with, well… She'd thought it looked like desire, but she could've been seeing things.

"Oh, hell," Riza grumbled when she realized that the song was over and Roy and his dance partner were walking towards them, arms still linked together.

Havoc set his plate of food down on the table behind them and nudged her with his shoulder. Riza gave him a small smile of gratitude. He may have been here under orders to protect Roy, but Havoc had her back right now. She hated needing support like this, but she could tell that it was going to be a trying few minutes just from the way the woman giggled and stroked Roy's arm with her free hand.

"Did you enjoy your dancing, sir?" Havoc asked once the two of them were closer.

"Oh, quite so," Roy responded in an almost breathy voice, as if the dance had been exhilarating. Riza tried not to stiffen at his tone or the way that he looked down at the woman and she giggled in response. She stood still and remained as impassive as possible. She was his bodyguard; she was his adjutant; she was nothing more than that. It didn't matter to her if this woman had found her next victim to marry. "Ms. Avery here–"

"I told you," the woman interrupted, giving him a coy smile, "Call me Carla."

Roy smiled ever so charmingly down at her. " _Carla_ is an avid dancer. She's been taking lessons all her life. It's been a while since I've been schooled so thoroughly."

"I've just loved to dance since I was a little girl," Carla gushed as she swept a strand of her perfect blonde hair out of her face. It was long and lovely. She'd kept it down so that it framed her face wonderfully. Riza's own hair was still in the stages of being grown out again. It was past the extremely awkward bed head hair, but nowhere near as lovely as Carla's. "It's in my blood, you could say. My mother was a ballet dancer. I wasn't quite as talented, but I still followed her."

"Nonsense, you were astounding out there. You certainly left me breathless."

If there was a sound that Riza never had to hear again in her life, it was Carla Avery's giggle. It was only thanks to the slight eye roll from Havoc that Riza was able to manage to steel herself against it. Clearly he didn't enjoy it all that much either. That made her feel a little better. It didn't entirely take away the urge to smack Roy across the face, but then again, he wasn't really doing anything wrong.

"If you'll excuse me though, I do need a refreshment after that." Roy carefully peeled himself away from her, but it was in a manner that said he was regretful about the loss of contact with her. Indeed, Carla pouted at him, her entire focus on him. In fact, she hadn't once looked at Riza, preferring to look at either Roy or Havoc, as if Riza didn't exist whatsoever. That suited Riza just fine. "Would you care for something?"

"That would be lovely, General," Carla practically purred. "Surprise me!"

"As you command," Roy replied, tipping his hat at her.

When he started for the bar, Riza turned on her heels to follow him without a word. She noticed a few seconds later that Havoc hadn't followed, instead staying behind to keep the other woman company until her dance partner returned. She truthfully didn't know whether to be mad at Havoc for doing that or thankful, mostly because she didn't know if she wanted to be around Roy right now – and she didn't know if she _didn't_ want to be around him. These functions were so stupid.

Once they were at the bar and out of the other two's sight, Roy slumped against the bar, not looking nearly as charming as he'd been seconds ago. "That woman is like an octopus, Hawkeye," he mumbled. "It was damn near impossible to extricate myself from her once she latched onto me."

"You seemed like you were enjoying yourself just fine." Riza nearly winced. The words had come out a lot more sharper than she'd intended. She hoped that he thought she was merely teasing him, but the sideways look that he gave her confirmed that he'd caught on. She dropped her eyes to the ground in apology, unable to say anything else. Why couldn't this night just end?

"She's not the one I want to dance with," Roy spoke up. Riza brought her eyes up and found herself looking into Roy's eyes. They carried the same look as when they'd been in the office alone together. She thought to admonish him for a moment – they were in public, after all – but she didn't really know what to say. "I find it terribly frustrating that I have to come to these things and see the most beautiful woman in the world, and yet I can't even dance with her. Something about it being inappropriate, I imagine is her reasoning."

Riza bit her lip. "Maybe she's just…afraid."

"Her? Afraid?" Roy chuckled. "Never. She's the most fearless person I've ever met." He thought too much of her at times. It always managed to get her worked up when he did that and yet he continued to do so. She picked up a glass of wine and he picked up one as well and started their return to Havoc and the woman. "It's also not fair that she's here. How am I supposed to pay attention to anyone else when all I want to do is look at her?"

She wouldn't blush. She refused to do such a thing, especially since they were in the middle of a crowd, but later on, when Riza thought back to this moment and remembered the feel of Roy's hand just ghosting along the small of her back as he helped guide her through the crowd. It wasn't much, but it was just enough to let her know exactly what he thought. They were in a room full of people with plenty of women willing to throw themselves at General Mustang, but the only woman he was leaving with here tonight was her.


	84. If only you would turn around

**Author's Notes:** This one is smaller than usual - so it's actually drabble size. I felt rather disappointed in myself. Thanks everyone for reading and following!

* * *

 _84\. If you would only turn around…_

* * *

It's only a glimpse of swaying golden hair, caught out of the corner of his eyes, but somehow in that split second, Roy knows that it's her and his heart begins to race in his chest.

He hasn't seen her for three days. Not long, not really, but to him it feels like a lifetime. He can't remember a time when he's gone that long without seeing her. It's been years and nowadays he can't understand how he managed to go longer than a week with her not in his life. Maybe he was spoiled by the past few years of her being with him almost day in and day out, both painfully and sweetly reminding him of their teenage years when he'd been her father's apprentice, or maybe it's simply because she's not with him.

Roy balls his hands into fists at this side, his short nails still managing to dig into his palms. He's just standing there in the middle of the street as people swarm around him, not paying him a lick of attention. The golden hair flitters in and out of sight as people cross in front of him, but he doesn't need a good look to know it's her. It's like he can sense her heartbeat from all the way over there or smell the coconut-scented shampoo she always uses. Just the way she moves, tilting her head to the right as she examines a piece of fruit at a food stand, how every step she takes is cautious and thought out – and he knows in his heart that it's her.

Three days since he's seen her, and it's almost all that he can take. He feels like he's an addict of some sorts. Can't he handle a few days without her being around? But he's found himself scratching at the edges of his mind with worry, halfway dialing her number before hanging up, looking at her empty desk because he can't bear to have anyone else sit in it.

What pains him the most about this moment though is not that he can't walk up to her and speak with her, but that her back is to him. That isn't right. She's always kept an eye on him, standing right behind him, watching over him. She took that duty seriously when she signed up for it all those years ago. And in a sense, never presenting her back to him was her way of protecting him as well. It's been so long, but he still pictures the burn wounds that litter her back whenever she turns on him. He still feels the urge to run his finger over every awful and beautiful transmutation line that maps her skin.

 _Turn around,_ Roy pleads with her in his mind as he watches her through the crowd. _Please, just turn around._

But then the moment comes. She turns to the side slightly and bends to hold a piece of fruit down, probably to show Black Hayate, and Roy has to fight the urge to jump into the alley. As much as he wants her to turn around, as much as he wants to see her face, he doesn't want her to see him either. There was no chance that he'd be able to hide if she did. She was the Hawk's Eye, after all, and nothing went over her head. To be honest, he's rather surprised that she hasn't felt him watching her yet. Maybe he's gotten better at it over the years.

He just wants to make sure that she's okay. No, he needs to know that she's okay. It may have only been three days since he's seen her, but it's been a few weeks since she was transferred to be King Bradley's assistant. It's one thing being taken away from him; it's quite another to know that you're being used as a hostage. She's damn good at her job and one of the bravest people he knows, but she is only human, after all, stuck serving under a homunculus that knew his secret was out.

Did Bradley hurt her? Did he threaten her? Did he order her to stay away from Roy on purpose?

It's weak, but Roy can't help but tremble at the thought of Bradley doing anything to her. She seems fine now though, looking at the different food stands and buying fresh food with her beloved dog, but if there's anything that Roy has learned about Riza from the time that he's known her, it's that she's excellent at hiding how she feels. People thought he was the master manipulator and actor, but they don't know Riza like he does. She could be weeping on the inside and smiling gently, so that no one would worry about her. She was good at that as a child, but Ishval stripped her of something as well.

She's so good at putting up a strong front, even better than him. He can't even spot her in a crowd without being overwhelmed by the urge to walk up behind her, wrap his arms around her waist, and press his face into the crook of her neck. He hasn't done that in ages, but he wants to do it now more than ever. It's perhaps the only thing that could assuage the dark cloud that has been circling over him for a nearly a month.

He needs her. That much has always been apparent to him. What was a King without his Queen? Their forced separation has only made it that much more obvious.

Roy takes a deep breath and turns around to walk in the opposite direction. He could take the chance and bump into her in the crowd, say it was happenstance that they'd come across each other in the market today – which it honestly was – but he knew that underneath the relief in her eyes to see him, there would be admonishment for his carelessness. And he rather doesn't know what he would do if he was able to be so close to her outside of military headquarters. Pull her hand into his, brush his fingers through her hair, tug her into an alley so that he could kiss her breathless.

He's weak without her, but after being forced apart, he knows that he might be weak with her too. It's a cruel irony that he must accept if they're going to make it through this. After all, Bradley may have taken Riza away from him for now, but he won't have her forever. They've underestimated his Lieutenant. On the outside, she may be acting like the perfect subordinate, but in the back of her mind, she was helping him plan a revolution. And nothing would stop him from getting her back.


	85. Surprise Attack

**Author's Notes:** This one was such a blast to write. It's a Modern AU, but only because of the use of certain technology, and based on what is perhaps my favorite fanart ever. I laugh every time I see that damn picture. Look at Havoc's face. What an idiot.

* * *

 _85\. Surprise Attack_

* * *

When it came to leaving any evidence about their relationship, Riza was careful as could be. She was strict in her policies, if only because she hated the idea of Roy getting in trouble in any way because of her. There was to be nothing lying around the office that suggested they were together, which meant that there was no fooling around in his interior office, something that he absolutely loathed and tried to instigate at least once a week. Any and all inappropriate text messages were to be deleted, although she'd even considered burner phones, though that would have made things even more suspicious.

Maybe Riza was a little paranoid about the entire thing, but it was in her nature to worry, especially when it came to him. She was happy that they were together – honest-to-God relieved whenever he showed up at her door in the middle of the night and curled around her body in bed – and she didn't want anything to jeopardize either his career or her relationship. Just as she was of him, she was protective of it.

Now, if it were up to Roy, he'd probably stand on top of headquarters and announce through a megaphone that they had finally consummated their relationship instead of just teetering around its edges for years. He would be as bad as Hughes had been when Gracia had accepted his proposal, calling up every buddy he had just so that he could brag. It was a point of consternation to him that he could not show pride in being with her – that he could not show that she was the one he loved in public – that he had to keep everything under wraps.

Alas, it was not up to him, but the fraternization laws that were still firmly in place. He may have been a General, but the rules still applied to them. Riza was still rather surprised that they'd crossed the line when they had been so good at keeping apart from each other for so long. In the end, it hadn't even been an extraordinary event that pushed them together, just a brief moment of longing when she'd dropped him off at home as usual and he had decided that he was tired of waiting. It turned out that she hadn't needed any convincing either.

They were discreet though. There may have been jokes around headquarters before throughout their years working together that things were not as inappropriate between them as they seemed, but now those jokes were the truth, and it made them a little edgier. The comments and jokes hadn't changed in their lightness, but for some reason, they felt different and it made her more cautious. No evidence was to be left of their relationship. It was a sour point, but one that they'd both agreed on in the end.

Which was why – and Riza would curse the thing later – the invention of snapchat had brightened Roy's mood considerably.

Truth be told, Riza didn't use her cell to its full capacity. Phone calls, text messages, emails, and maybe an embarrassing amount of pictures of Black Hayate, but that was it. She only had a facebook account because both Rebecca and Havoc had hounded her about it, and she had found it useful to stay in contact with old friends and former colleagues and she liked looking at everyone's pictures. That was pretty much the extent of her use of phone apps. Fuery had offered to show her how to use more apps, having been a wizard at them himself, but she'd lightly declined.

Honestly, she hadn't thought much of it when Fuery had been showing everyone the new snapchat app on his phone. All the guys seemed pretty excited, especially Havoc, who right away found various ways to take goofy pictures and send them to Rebecca. (There had been that moment when he'd gotten a terrible grin on his face and she'd snatched his phone from him: "I don't care if it's available for only four seconds; if you send Rebecca a picture like that, she'll probably scream loud enough to be heard at Briggs.") She'd noticed the strangely bright gleam in Roy's eyes as he goofed off with the app, but had dismissed it as just him being curious.

So when he'd attempted to casually bring up the application up later, Riza had been caught off guard. She hadn't been completely listening to Fuery's explanation, and so she listened to Roy very carefully. This snapchat app, according to him, was absolutely made for them. They could send each other messages or pictures and then in a few seconds they would be gone, erased from existence. The app even let the sender know if the picture was taken as a screenshot. Finally, they could communicate with one another like other couples did and the app destroyed the evidence for them.

Riza had been hesitant at first, but she could barely stop the warm smile from crossing her face when she'd been at her desk and received a silly picture of Roy with the caption saying that he missed her from behind the closed door of his interior office, only for it to disappear from existence five seconds later. Her only rule was that they keep the use of it at work to a minimum, mostly so that they wouldn't get distracted. Nonetheless, she smiled to herself every time she received a notification from him and found her heart racing with exhilaration every time she sent one to him. It was both a thrill and relief to do something that everyday couples did. In this, they could be normal and not have to worry.

For the most part, their pictures and messages to one another were fairly appropriate. While she didn't condemn the idea outright, Riza could not in good conscience send anything that showed herself in a compromising position, although Roy hadn't been so prudish about it. He never pushed the subject, knowing to respect her boundaries, something she was grateful for. However, that hadn't stopped him from sending her a few snapchats that made her blush to the roots of her hair. One time she'd startled so badly that she'd knocked the coffee off her desk, spilling it all over Falman and his meticulously taken notes, and she'd rushed to the lavatory until she was no longer embarrassed.

Today, however, Riza felt strangely emboldened. It was for no particular reason. It was one of the few days where she was off and Roy was stuck at work. She'd spent the day doing her favorite things: taking Black Hayate on a run in her favorite park, getting a smoothie afterwards, browsing through clothing stores for fun, and then taking a luxurious and steamy bubble bath with a glass of wine and gentle music playing in the background. She would have liked to blame the wine on the sudden idea, but really, it was her own fault and her desire to tease Roy in the ways that he'd tortured her.

Wrapping a towel around herself precariously, Riza swiped at the foggy mirror and grinned at her wet and disheveled reflection. Roy wouldn't know what to do with himself. Served him right for still being at work so late, probably from procrastinating in the morning. She picked up her phone, tapping on the snapchat app, and tilted the camera just right before taking a picture. After typing the caption – "Hurry and get your work DONE" – she hesitated for a moment. She'd never sent such an inappropriate picture before. And while she could hear Roy telling her that the picture would vanish from sight quickly, she was still concerned.

With a deep breath, Riza pushed the send button and then set her phone down. Now all that was left was to wait for Roy's shocked reply. If that didn't send him in a rush to finish his work, nothing would.

* * *

It was an hour past the time they normally left work, and the men were all getting antsy. It was their own fault, considering that they'd goofed off before lunch, but that didn't make them any less disgruntled that they were stuck afterhours. Havoc was sitting at his desk, bored to tears while rifling through paperwork that consisted of only uniform infractions, when he heard an all too familiar ping from inside Mustang's office. His head shot up immediately and turned to the door. There was no sound after that, just utter silence, which was odd.

"Hey, has the boss come out recently?" Havoc asked no one in particular.

Falman scratched the back of his head with his pen. "He has been strangely quiet for a while. I assumed he was merely trying to get through his work as fast as possible."

What a naïve thought. Havoc stood up from his seat and walked over to the door, pressing his ear against the wood and waving away a concerned look from Fuery. Nothing, not a peep. He could have knocked – probably should have done so – but instead he slowly twisted the doorknob and pushed it open. What he saw confirmed his presumptions.

There was General Mustang, slumped backwards in his chair, arms folded across his chest, and hat tipped over his face, dead asleep. The man had probably learned how to not snore so that Hawkeye would never catch him asleep at his desk.

Now Jean Havoc was a curious man by nature with what many people assumed was a death wish, all things considered. He could've been mad at his boss for sleeping while the rest of them were slaving away, trying to get out of work, but his mind was focused on the sound that was so obviously a cellphone notification. He shot the rest of the men a grin before tiptoeing inside Mustang's interior office. As luck would have it, the man's cell was lying on the desk and a green light blinked in the corner. With quick and silent skills only known to snipers, Havoc snatched the cell and hurried out of the office, silently closing the door behind him.

"What are you doing?" Fuery hissed, sounding more shocked than angry.

"The boss got a snapchat," Havoc merely explained. He wondered what girl had sent him the picture. Maybe it was Annabeth from Investigations or Coraline from the coffee shop. It served Mustang right for missing the opportunity to see the picture. Plus, Havoc was just damn curious about his boss' social media activities.

Fuery gaped at him. "Those are _private_."

Havoc ignored him and waved the phone around. "Anyone have any ideas about his lock password?"

Not one to miss out, Breda stood up and held out his hand. After Havoc handed him the cell, Breda examined it for a moment before swiping his finger around a few times. There was a clicking sound and he handed Havoc back the phone while wearing a triumphant grin. "He needs to clean his phone screen more often if he wants to be so secretive."

"Ha, our loveable General is–" Havoc's eyes widened. "Holy shit, the snapchat is from _Hawkeye_!"

Breda shrugged his shoulders. "It's probably her just telling him to do his work. Even if she's not here, I bet she can just sense his procrastination all the way from her place. She probably knows that he'll ignore anything that isn't social media related at this point of the day."

"Maybe…" Havoc thought for a moment. On one hand, he greatly respected Hawkeye and didn't want to do anything that might invade her privacy. On the other hand, he was insanely curious about what Hawkeye was like on social media, even more so than the General. Snapchat didn't seem like something she would use, but then she did know how to manipulate Mustang at work.

Rolling the dice, Havoc pressed on the snapchat.

And then promptly threw a hand to his mouth so that he didn't scream out loud.

His reaction – eyes widening beyond the realm of possibility and clamping a hand over his mouth, even his cheeks turning red – must have been enough to stir the rest of the men. Both Fuery and Falman stayed firmly in their seats, shooting each other nervous looks, while Breda shot up so that he could look over Havoc's shoulder and press the button to view the picture again.

"Why in the hell are you–?" Breda interrupted himself by damn near choking.

Despite the fact that he'd never once considered her in such a way, Havoc knew that Riza Hawkeye was a very attractive woman. The military uniform did its best to hide her figure, but he'd seen her in plain clothes enough to know that she had a distinctively feminine body underneath. She hid it well though, not wanting to be seen as only a woman while at work, and he respected that greatly. He admired her and understood that she loathed it when men, especially those in the military, only treated her as a woman and ignored her rank and skills.

But nothing in all his years could have prepared him for this. There was Hawkeye wearing nothing but a towel that was hanging onto her figure by a bare thread, a towel that did extremely little to hide the fact that she was not only well-endowed in the chest area. She was in the bathroom, having obviously just taken a bath or shower, as steam rose around her. The picture left enough to the imagination that it damn near caused Havoc's brain to shut down on the spot at the implications. The caption caused Havoc to suck in an intake of breath or he was like to pass out from lack of oxygen.

"What is it? What's the picture?" Fuery finally asked.

"I…" Breda blinked, looking completely flabbergasted. His thoughts were probably the same as Havoc's. He briefly glanced at Falman, who looked close to getting up. "I wouldn't look at this if I were you. Even without your photographic memory, I'm never going to be able to forget this, and I don't want you to die because Havoc and I are idiots."

Havoc knew that he should put the phone up. He needed to return it back to Mustang's desk and try to forget that this had ever happened. But he also knew that he wasn't going to be able to get this out of his head. While he was very much involved with Hawkeye's best friend and only wanted to be with her, he could not rightfully deny that the picture had changed his view of Hawkeye just a little. Also, it sparked too many terrible ideas in his head, ideas that were very bad but far too amusing for him to ignore.

Finally, finally, finally, there was something that he could do to one up Hawkeye. It was dangerous, but now that it was in his head, he couldn't let it go. This was the perfect opportunity. Never in his time working with her had he been able to properly prank her. Everyone else on the team, including Mustang and Fullmetal, had fallen victim to one of his pranks, but she'd always caught him and ruined his plans when it came to her. She was just too damn good and aware of her surroundings.

Now though, the technology gods had blessed him with the ultimate chance to get back at her.

Havoc clicked on the reply button, the camera already in selfie mode.

Breda gave him a wary expression. "What are you doing?"

"Sending a response." Havoc was a simple man that believed in answering things outright unless he was on an undercover mission. The fact that everyone in the room looked at him like he was crazy meant nothing.

Without warning, Breda snatched the phone out of his hands. "Are you fucking out of your mind, Havoc? She'll kill you. She'll drive here, regardless of what she's wearing" – Breda turned red all over again – "and she'll shoot you right on the spot. Then, despite not being an alchemist, she'll perform the first ever successful human transmutation to bring you back to life, just so she can kill you again."

"Don't you see?" Havoc pleaded. "This is it! This is the chance we've been waiting for. We can finally prank her, and she won't be able to do a thing about it. The evidence is gone and even then, you know she won't admit to it ever existing. We have to do this. We're never going to get the opportunity again!"

Breda thought about it for the moment. For most of Havoc's pranks, he'd also been involved. He was able to come up with some more convoluted pranks. That and he was slightly disgruntled since Hawkeye had been beating him at poker for the past three games and he owed her a rather fair amount of money. Havoc felt a hint of shame at having invaded her privacy – and really, he'd try to make it up to her later in some way – but he was just far too excited to lord this victory over her. Plus, this meant that he won the betting pool about Mustang and Hawkeye's relationship and Breda owed him money as well, which made things even more tempting.

Nodding his head, Breda angled the camera upwards toward them. Still reeling from the provocative picture, Breda wore a rather bemused expression while Havoc grinned wolfishly, a cigarette poking out of the side of his mouth. He took the cell from Breda and typed in a caption – "Roy's zzz… can we take a MESSAGE?" – and hit the send button without a hint of doubt. He hastily slipped into Mustang's office, where the man was still sound asleep, and replaced the phone where he found it.

When Havoc stepped out of it, Breda was already sitting at his desk, head in his heads. "What have we done? I am not supposed to be this stupid, and yet I let you sway me into this boneheaded idea." Fuery looked on at Breda pityingly while Falman looked uneasy. "She's going to murder us. She's going to wait until we've grown complacent and then she's going to hunt us down and kill us." He pulled his head out of his hands and slumped back in his chair, groaning out loud. "I didn't even think about the General. You know how he is with her. He's going to burn us into unidentifiable crisps if he finds out that we saw Hawkeye like…like…"

Havoc snorted as he sat down in his chair, leaning back so that he could prop his feet up on his desk. "Being on this team involves risky business." Truth be told, he hadn't considered that fact either. But then the picture was gone from the memory banks and he would have no idea that they'd seen it. Maybe Hawkeye would tell him, but that was a chance Havoc had to live with. He knew that there were going to be consequences to his joke, but it was something that he simply couldn't pass up.

* * *

Back at her apartment, Riza was happily humming to herself while she cooked dinner when the notification sound for her cell went off. She bit her lip as she picked up her phone, readying herself for Roy's reaction, when she pressed on the picture button in the app.

Riza didn't know how it was possible to go from excited to enraged in less than a second, but she gasped out loud and dropped her phone when she saw Breda's wide eyes and Havoc's shit eating grin. She picked up her phone again and clicked on the button so that she could read the caption. Roy was asleep at work. And instead of him seeing the first risqué picture she'd taken, it had been her colleagues.

At first, her heart raced wildly at what had happened. The team knew. Well, they'd most likely suspected as it was, considering the fact that the two men had had the gall to actually respond, but that didn't matter. She could have been upset that they'd seen her in such a way, but she didn't really care about that. Despite the fact that she was furious with them about not respecting her or Roy's privacy, she also knew that they would not treat her any differently because of what they'd seen.

Leaning against the counter, Riza considered her options. Shooting them was her first thought, but no, that was illegal. She had to get back at them in some way. She had to torture them. Riza considered herself to be mature and above the pranks that occurred in the office, but in this moment, she knew that she had to play at their game and she had to beat them at it. She'd done it to Roy before, years ago after he'd shown up drunk on her doorstep and rattled off a bunch of fire related pick up lines at her, and she could do it again.

She knew what she had to do.

Riza set to work. In her bedroom, she pulled out her old sniper rifle and set it on her bed. She took a picture of it on snapchat and sent it without a caption to both Havoc and Breda. She'd let them stew on that for a while to ponder what it meant. While she didn't have any ideas about actually using it on them, the silent implication in itself would cause them to sweat bullets.

The next thing she did, after putting the gun away, was make a call. "Hey, Rebecca. Is this a bad time? I was wondering if you'd like to help me with something. It involves torturing the idiot you call a boyfriend and his best friend." Riza smiled into the phone. "You truly are the best friend a girl could have."


	86. Syllogism

**Author's Notes:** I love the idea of Team Mustang pranking one another, **ssadropout**. Riza only doesn't get involved because she knows that she'd be a little more vindictive in it. Hence why poor Havoc will suffer. I will admit to having a difficult time with this one, and then I ended up rambling. Please enjoy!

* * *

 _86\. Syllogism_

* * *

"Do you think the Colonel is going to be mad at us?" Alphonse asked as they walked up the stairs.

"Do you think I care?" was all Ed huffed in response.

Alphonse bit back a sigh. Seeing as how he wasn't the State Alchemist, he didn't really have anything to worry about, but he did hate disappointing people. The Colonel was particularly adept at frowning in dissatisfaction whenever they produced results by more destructive means. Honestly, what had happened wasn't their fault, so surely they would be fine. As far as Ed was concerned, they'd get on the earliest train out of here after getting a few hours of sleep and he could avoid getting scolded like, well, a fourteen year-old.

Once they reached the floor where their hotel room resided, Alphonse had to step back so Ed could throw the door open. "The man was abusing alchemy to sham people," his brother grumbled. "It was a disgrace. He deserved everything that got thrown at him."

Well, everything that Ed threw at him. Alphonse didn't think Ed would take kindly to that additional statement so he wisely (and figuratively) kept his mouth shut. Really, his brother was just tired. A bit of respite and he'd be back to normal and ready to start the journey. Ed needed a lot of sleep, more than he admitted, and he got even grumpier when he was tired, which was also something he didn't admit. People might think that he was naturally a moody teenager, but he could get downright grouchy when he was feeling drowsy, especially after a fight.

Just as they rounded the corner though, Ed came to a jarring halt and Alphonse nearly bumped into him. "What is it, Brother?" He peered around the corner and spotted what had caused Ed to stop in his tracks.

There, standing patiently outside their hotel room, were two people in military uniforms, like they were on some sort of guard duty. Except no one had been assigned to watch over them and they did their best to work on their own. Not only that, but the two people were more than familiar to the young alchemists.

On the left was Major Hughes, looking more like a soldier as he stood attentively at the door and wasn't fawning over pictures of his wife and child. The light from the hallway was glinting off his glasses quite menacingly so that Alphonse couldn't see his eyes. On the right was First Lieutenant Hawkeye. She was a model soldier. Not to say that because she was attractive – Alphonse thought that the Lieutenant was very pretty – but more because she stood at complete attention. Even though she looked at ease, she also had an air about her that said that she could whip out two guns at the slightest sound in a second.

Luckily for both of them, they were not the object of Ed's ire most of the time. Hughes could get overbearing at times, but he was a sharp man and darkly clever underneath his cheerful mask. And both Elrics secretly adored Hawkeye in their own way, an easy mixture of fondness and respect also tinted by fear. The only other person to surpass that level was their teacher, but Hawkeye had her way of instilling responsibility in them.

Nonetheless, it was strange seeing them both here together since Hawkeye didn't work in Investigations with Hughes. Alphonse wasn't aware if they were friends or not, but they did have plenty in common with each other.

Blowing out some air, Ed took a step forward and Hawkeye immediately swung her attention to them. Alphonse imagined that she'd already seen them, but had waited for them to announce their arrival. She seemed to see and know a lot of things before she was told, which might be why she was here in the first place.

"Hello, boys!" Hughes greeted, reaching out to shake Ed's and Alphonse's hands.

"What are you two doing here?" Ed asked bluntly. Alphonse would've cringed if that was possible. His brother was more tired than Alphonse had realized. "There's not another assignment, is there? It's late. Some people like to sleep at night."

Hughes grinned at them and Alphonse noted that it wasn't a warm grin like normal; it looked more…predatory than anything else. "No, it's not really an assignment."

Ed furrowed his brow. "Not really?" He pressed his lips together, eyes darting from a grinning Hughes to an impassive Hawkeye. "Wait a minute… If the Lieutenant is here…and you're here…" Ed's eyes widened and he swelled up in a way that could only be described as a balloon full of rage.

"You were out late, Fullmetal. Isn't it past your curfew?"

The Colonel stood in the open doorway of their hotel room, swinging a key around his finger and wearing the type of smug smirk that could rile Ed up without the man even speaking. Whereas Hughes looked like a clever tactician and Hawkeye the perfect soldier, it was as if the military uniform had been modeled after Colonel Mustang. He looked every bit of the commanding officer, even with that smirk, which was probably half the reason Ed complained about him.

"What are you doing in our room?" Ed demanded heatedly, pointing an accusing finger at him. "That's breaking and entering!"

Mustang waved the key in the air. "I'm your commanding officer, so I have the authority to enter your premises whenever I like to conduct an inspection. Besides, the military is paying for this room through the allocations of your State Alchemist fund."

Despite the fact that he was very much human, Ed growled like an animal ready to attack and brushed past the Colonel into the hotel room. Alphonse waited for Hughes and Hawkeye to step inside as well before following them and shutting the door behind them. Not that that would do any good. If Ed and the Colonel got into it, no doubt there would be complaints from guests in the entire hotel. He wondered if the military would pay for any damages done to public property caused by officers.

"You still haven't explained why you're here," Ed pointed out.

"The military thrives on order and pointless paperwork," Mustang explained, "and one of the things it does is maintain up to date files on any military officers. For State Alchemists, it's even more important because of the yearly exams."

Hughes stepped in smoothly. "The government is meticulous about these things. It's their way of keeping tabs on the men and women working under them. It helps with promotions, transfers, missions, and the like. In the end, it's mainly just background information, medical history, stuff like that."

"So you need me to fill out some paperwork? That's why you came all the way here in the middle of the night?" Ed huffed as he tossed his red jacket on the back of a chair and then threw himself onto the couch. He stretched out his arms and waved both hands in the air. "Medical history is the same: still missing an arm and leg. All leads have proven to be a waste of my time, just like this. The only update is my sleep deprivation and a migraine from having to see Colonel Bastard's face outside of headquarters."

"Well, that's not the main reason why we're here…" Hughes trailed off in a rather suspicious manner. Ed looked at the three officers staring down at him. Alphonse was so focused on Hughes that he didn't even notice when Mustang briefly stepped out of the room.

"They also update the photos in every personnel file yearly," Hawkeye stated. "So far, every time they perform these updates, you've been out on a mission or chasing a lead, so your file is rather out of date." She sighed, a rather frustrated look crossing her face. "And somehow the paperwork sent to us requesting the Colonel to have your files brought up to date were…consistently misplaced."

"It's all really tedious work," Hughes added sympathetically.

Although Alphonse couldn't be for certain, he thought he heard Hawkeye mumble something along the lines of, "I'm still tempted to shoot him in the foot." Alphonse did not want to be the man that misplaced any paperwork on Hawkeye's watch.

"Can't you just, I don't know, use one of my photos in the newspaper?" Ed groaned.

Hawkeye shook her head. "They're very particular about these things. Second Lieutenant Havoc had to have his photo taken three times before they accepted it."

"Particular? How so?"

"No smiling, no objects in the picture," Mustang informed them as he stepped back into the room, "and, most importantly" – he threw a duffel bag into Ed's gut and somehow his smirk broadened into dangerous territory – "in full uniform."

Ed let out a high-pitched squawk as he rifled through the bag. Indeed, the clothing he pulled out was a military issued uniform, the same familiar blue that matched the three adults' clothes. Alphonse knew for a fact that Ed had never once worn the uniform before. In fact, if memory served correctly, his brother hadn't even been given a uniform to wear, as if the Colonel had known all along that his new subordinate would just throw it in the trash or possibly burn it.

"There was a…small problem," Mustang continued. Ed twitched at the comment, baring his teeth in a hiss, but surprisingly kept any threats to himself. He kept pulling out more of the uniform and tossing each article of clothing on the floor at his feet. "Upon Hughes' search to find a uniform to wear, he realized that every uniform was too big. I had to dig out one of my old ones in order to find the closest fit. Apparently, the military wasn't properly prepared to size uniforms for children."

"I'm surprised they found a uniform that was able to fit your huge ass ego!" Ed finally snapped. The look on Mustang's face did little to deny the ego comment. Ed tossed the empty duffel bag to the side. When he seemed to realize that throwing a tantrum would get him nowhere, he switched tactics, casting an almost pleading look towards Hawkeye. "Can't I borrow one of the Lieutenant's? She's…closer to…my size."

"Not unless you're willing to wear a skirt, Fullmetal," Mustang responded wryly. "Dress blues only."

Hawkeye let out a disparaging sigh. "It somehow managed to get shrunk in the wash. I would advise against it."

"I would as well," Mustang added. "I do enjoy seeing the Lieutenant showing some leg every once in a while, but I believe seeing you in a skirt would turn me away from them completely."

For a moment, Alphonse was almost that Hawkeye was about to change her mind and attempt to convince Ed to wear her uniform for the picture, but she bit her lip at the last minute. Judging from the slight tinge of pink in her cheeks and the tight way she was holding herself together, she hadn't enjoyed dressing up almost as much as Ed. She managed to shoot Mustang a glare, which he decidedly ignored, and then take a deep breath.

Ed, on the other hand, looked close to exploding. If he wasn't so tired, he probably would've tried to start an actual fight with Mustang, but he was delegated to seething on the couch and crumpling a dress shirt in his hands. That was going to cause so many wrinkles. Al wondered how easy it was to get blood out of the uniform before they gave it back to Fuery or if they'd just have to buy him a new one.

Scowling at Mustang, Ed slumped on the couch. "Okay, I get why you're here." To give him the uniform and order to have his personnel files updated. Ed turned his eyes to Hawkeye. "And I can see why you're here." To help Mustang carry out the order and also potentially protect him from Ed. But then that left the third adult in the room. "So why are you here?"

Hughes beamed and whipped out a camera from behind his back. "I'm the photographer! I've perfected my skills by taking countless photos of my daughter."

Halfway choking, Ed gave Alphonse a look that shouted to help him, but all Alphonse could do was shrug his shoulders. He wasn't the one that had to get his picture taken. They'd known that when Ed signed up to be a State Alchemist and took the exam that he would have to do some unseemly things. There were some orders that could be skewed or even ignored if they were bad enough, but then there were some truly dirty ones that Ed was forced to perform no matter how personal feelings on the matter. As long as murder wasn't on the table, when it came down to it, while he had more freedom than most, Ed had to do what his commanding officers told him to do.

Including putting on a uniform that was undoubtedly too big for him and having his picture taken.

"Come on then, we don't have all night," Mustang proclaimed in a voice that thinly disguised his humor. "I'm not above using force to have this order carried out."

Ed picked up to clutch the uniform against his chest and jumped to his feet. "Don't you touch me, you bastard!"

"Just change so that you can get this over with and then get to bed," Alphonse piped up. All his brother needed was a little convincing. Half the time he used up more energy to put up a fight than what it would've taken to do the thing he was fighting about. Alphonse had an idea that Ed would rather argue with the Colonel than agree with him, even if he thought the man was right.

Harrumphing to himself, Ed trudged into the bedroom and slammed the door. Alphonse sat down and watched as the demeanor of the three adults changed slightly. The smugness faded from Mustang's face to be replaced by a soft yet rather fond grin. Hughes toyed with the camera, coming off as more carefree than anything else. A tenseness that Alphonse hadn't even been aware of in Hawkeye seemed to dissipate. It was like all of them had put up a specific front for Ed.

"You should've seen the Lieutenant, Hughes," Mustang said teasingly. Hawkeye shot him another glare, this one more exasperated, which only made his grin broadened. "She was blushing the entire time and she threatened the guy taking the pictures when he complimented her."

"Was it really that bad?" Hughes asked.

"It was nothing," Hawkeye said flatly.

"It was incredible," Mustang insisted.

A sudden, furious yell erupted from behind the bedroom door, causing all four people in the living room to swivel their heads in that direction. It took everything in Alphonse's power not to laugh when Ed kicked the door open and trounced out of the bedroom, holding the pants up and looking as if he was wearing the military jacket as a blanket. In no way did the uniform fit him. He may as well been swimming in the uniform.

Unfortunately, Mustang did not have that kind of power and he outright guffawed while Hughes took a few candid photos for posterity's sake. "Who knew that updating boring paperwork could be so much fun?"

Alphonse wondered, not for the first time, if Colonel Mustang had a death wish. While holding back Ed, who did little more than wave floppy sleeves in the air as he attempted to attack Mustang, Alphonse hoped that Lieutenant Hawkeye was as good at her job of protecting the Colonel as she appeared. Then again, judging from the way she was looking at her commanding officer, she seemed like she wouldn't mind if Ed got in a hit or two on the Colonel first.


	87. Memories

**Author's Notes:** I've been trying to figure out a way to write this drabble for a while, but then it hit me. This is tied to a comment that Riza made to Al back in **Drabble 56 ("Skillful & Clumsy")**. Thank you everyone!

* * *

 _87\. Memories_

* * *

It was supposed to be a routine check.

When Roy had been given the order to conduct an inspection on a renovated ammunitions factory, he hadn't exactly been pleased. These were the types of assignments handed down as a slight jab. Almost anyone could've conducted the inspection, but instead it had been handed down to him, newly promoted Colonel Mustang. It would have looked like nothing to most people, but in the world of politics, the command had spoken volumes of what the upper brass thought of the Colonel.

There had been a barely suppressed smile on First Lieutenant Connor's face when he'd arrived to pass down the commands. Roy had taken the papers without any complaint, but spent the entire ride to the factory grumbling about how he was going to light General Moore's adjutant on fire. Needless to say, it had been a tense ride, Riza silent at the wheel and Havoc and Fuery shooting nervous glances at their commanding officer. There was little she could do to sooth the man's ego, not that she would have anyways. When she'd lightly suggested that the order might mean nothing, he'd snapped at her and they hadn't spoken in more than short bursts since.

Sometimes, even though she was supposed to be guarding his back, Riza wanted to do nothing more than slap Roy upside the head. His ego was so damn delicate.

Once they were at the factory, Roy conducted the inspection swiftly. He met with the main supervisors on the floor and began to do routine checks. No one would ever have been able to guess that Roy had been furious about the assignment before, what with the way he smoothly operated with the supervisors and almost warmly conversed with the men and women working with the machines. The only sign that there was a problem was solely for them.

Instead of Riza being one step behind him, it was Havoc.

Not of her own choice, of course. Riza could be absolutely furious with the man and feel like throttling him, like when he repeatedly shirked his paperwork for no apparent reason, and still guard his back without any question. However, when they'd arrived, Roy had ordered Havoc to follow him, which only added insult to injury. In the back of her mind, she knew that it was because he was embarrassed with himself for how he'd treated her, but that only frustrated her more.

The entire inspection was rather dull. Nothing out of the ordinary popped up and everything appeared to be working near to perfection. Roy had Fuery check out a few of the machines and Riza was able to take a good examination of the finished products. The ammunitions factory was a success. It was boring, but a relief. The plant had been bombed during the Ishval War, to stop the supply of weapons, and it had taken a while to get it up and running again. Despite the tensions that it had caused, it had provided a lot of jobs for the struggling community in the end.

"An excellent turn around," Roy proclaimed while shaking hands with the foreman. "I'll hand the report to General Moore myself and explain to him what all you've done here."

Almost always, when they left somewhere, Roy stepped out first. It drove Riza mad half the time, but he liked to make a show of things. This time, however, her nerves were more than frayed. He hadn't even looked at her once throughout the inspection, choosing to stare at the wall behind her when he gave her orders. It was perhaps childish of her, but she hated it when he acted this way. Riza turned on her heels and started for the door, which caused Fuery to jump and follow quickly after her.

When Riza stepped outside, she had to throw a hand up to shield her eyes from the sunlight. It was bright and hot, but not quite as unforgiving as Ishval had been. She took a deep breath, enjoying the fresh air and the brief moment where she was alone. By the time they reached the office, she knew that she would berate herself for acting so put out and Roy would call her into the office to apologize, but for now, she reveled in what she could.

Fuery stepped out with her. "Lieutenant, are you–?"

It could have been nothing. And to anyone else, in that split second that she caught sight of the man out of the corner of her eyes, they probably wouldn't have thought anything of it. Just a man walking to the factory for his shift, holding a brown bag that carried his lunch. He was wearing a factory uniform after all. Nothing about him was suspicious. Nothing about the inspection had suggested that something was off.

But in the heartbeat in between turning to face Fuery and seeing the man walking in their direction, Riza knew that this was not something.

She saw the way the man moved – slow but nervous, face blank yet sweating, as he clutched the sack against his chest. Everything felt like it was going in slow motion for Riza as everything came into focus entirely too fast. Fuery's mouth open in mid-sentence, concerned eyes on her and not seeing the man, Riza's face turning to her subordinate but her eyes not moving, and then the man reaching into the bag for something–

Perhaps she reacted out of mere instinct, but if Riza knew anything, it was what drawing a weapon looked like.

"Get down!" Riza screamed, leaping into immediate action.

She drew her own service weapon just as the man did and leapt in front of Fuery, causing him to shout and knocking him down behind her. Three shots resounded in the air, ringing in her ears. It may have been her imagination, but she could've sworn smoke was billowing of her gun. A sharp pain in her side from an old wound stung, as it always seemed to do when she shot someone. It had only been maybe a few seconds altogether, but the time in between her seeing the man and shooting him felt like days.

The silence that followed after hung over them thickly. Riza watched as the man collapsed face first onto the pavement, the same nervous determination still on his face. He hadn't even had time to react to the fact that he'd been spotted. His arm still outstretched, the gun bounced out of his slack grip the moment his hand hit the ground.

A loud crash behind them startled the two soldiers. There was Roy, having burst out of the factory upon hearing her scream and the subsequent gunfire. "What in the hell happened?" he demanded. His tone was furious, but his eyes said something different. They were sharp and thick with worry.

From his spot on the ground, Fuery gestured lamely in the direction of the downed gunman. "I don't know, sir. I stepped outside and the next thing I knew, the Lieutenant screamed and she knocked me down to take care of the assailant." He blinked behind his glasses and looked up at her. "If it wasn't for her, I might have been–" He blinked once more and then his eyes widened. "Oh, _Lieutenant_."

Riza furrowed her brow at the scared look on Fuery's face and then swiveled her eyes in the direction of Roy. Her heart was still racing wildly from the sudden incident and her mind reeling from what she'd done. But when she saw the panic written plainly on Roy's face for everyone to see, she looked down at herself and caught sight of the red blossoming on the front of her jacket. She took a short breath. There had been three shots. The gunman had managed to squeeze off one round for her two.

The fog that was clouding her pain receptors disappeared quite suddenly, only to be replaced by bursts of pain that seemed to shoot throughout her entire body. Without warning, Riza's knees buckled and she found herself crumpling towards the ground. It was only thanks to Havoc being at her left and catching her that she didn't hit the dirt like the gunman.

Distantly, Riza was aware of things happening around her, but the shock from the pain didn't allow her to concentrate all that much. As Havoc gently eased her onto the ground, she heard Roy yelling at Fuery to phone the paramedics, ordering the foreman to put the factory on lockdown, telling Havoc to do a perimeter check to make sure that there were no other assailants. More people were running around in a flurry. It frustrated her that she felt so weak, but her heart leapt into her throat at the loss of contact when Havoc begrudgingly left her.

Most likely though, it had just been a lone gunman angry about the ammunitions factory up and running again after the war. Riza thought to tell him that, but she couldn't get the words out of her mouth. All she could do was lie down on the ground, hands against the wound, like she could hold her own blood in, and stare up at the beautiful blue sky.

And then there was Roy's face, swimming back into her view. She tried to tell him that she was fine, but it only managed to cause sharp pain to flare up her side. "Easy, easy," Roy murmured. He carefully undid the buttons of her jacket so that he could get a better look at the wound. She watched his expression change multiple times: barring his teeth and practically hissing at the large blood staining her white undershirt, his eyes going from worry to fear as he slowly tugged up her shirt and she had to bite her tongue to keep herself from yelping in pain. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean–"

He didn't mean to hurt her. Her stupid Colonel. "S'not your fault," Riza managed to wheeze out. Shit, it hurt. She'd only been shot once before, but it had been in the shoulder. The pain seemed to triple in comparison to that. She felt like she could barely breathe or even think. Every time she moved, pain seared right through her. The last time she'd hurt this bad had been when she'd first woken up after Roy had burned her back.

"I should've been with you," Roy mumbled as took off his jacket. She noticed that he'd put on his gloves. If she'd had the energy, she would've admonished him for allowing her blood to contaminate them, but he didn't even seem to notice the red splotches on his once pristine ignition gloves. "I pushed you away and look at what happened."

"It's my job…to protect you," Riza pointed out, grimacing in pain whenever she spoke. Her vision wavered for a moment, unconsciousness creeping up on her as she lost blood, but she grasped onto it tightly and focused on his face. "Not the…other way around."

When Roy balled up his jacket and pressed it against her wound to staunch the bleeding, Riza let out a shout of pain despite herself. "Sorry, sorry…" He closed his eyes, his face looking almost as pained as she felt. "I could… I could cauterize the wound, but I…"

It was only then that Riza noticed that his hands were shaking slightly. Even through the jacket and the pain from the gunshot wound, she could feel the tremors resonate from his hands and through her body. With his flame alchemy, he could burn the wound and stop the bleeding for the most part, but he was afraid. Could he burn her again? Even if it was to save her, could he do it without breaking? She wondered, not for the first time, if the memory of that night would haunt them for the rest of their days, hiding in the shadows like a monster.

As if on the cue, shadows swam in her vision again and she struggled a little more. She knew that the gunshot was bad, but as long as the paramedics arrived quickly, she'd be fine. She had to be fine. There was no way in hell that she was going to die today. It was just a gunshot wound and it hadn't even hit any major arteries. She was going to be fine. She'd been hurt worse before and she'd lived.

"Stay with me, Lieutenant," Roy told her, almost like an order. Well, she couldn't disobey an order, but it wasn't like her body was giving her much of a choice.

"You need to keep her conscious, sir," a voice said from somewhere. It sounded like Fuery maybe. "The medics should be here any second. They said to keep her awake."

 _How cruel of them,_ Riza couldn't help but think. As long as she was awake, she was in pain.

She watched as Roy struggled for a moment, battling with himself internally as he fought with his growing panic and his desire to remain in control. He couldn't be seen losing himself over her. After all, she was supposed to be just his adjutant. Would he have looked so terrified if it was Fuery that had been shot? Maybe, maybe not. He needed to keep himself together, even during a time like this when her life was in the balance. After all, it was his life that was important. He was the one gunning for the top to fix things. Even into hell, she'd said.

Slowly, Roy took a deep breath and she watched as he transformed right before her eyes, his entire body relaxing and his face becoming as soft. There was a fondness in his eyes that she hadn't seen since they were teenagers, before he'd left for the Academy. "Do you remember that night when it stormed like mad and every clap of thunder shook the entire house? The electricity went out, but you insisted on studying by candlelight, except I didn't want to and hassled you until you threw a book at me and ran me out of the house."

His voice was just as gentle as she remembered when he'd studied the transmutation circle on her back, every word caressing her warmly. She knew that it wasn't possible, but it felt like his gaze soothed the pain somewhat, like the salve that he'd applied to her burn wounds.

"You chased me around the entire yard, yelling at me to get back inside or I'd catch a cold, but I just teased you and kept on running. And then you fell into a huge mud puddle." Roy smoothed the hair out of her face. Sirens sounded somewhere in the distance, but they could've been in another world as far as she knew. "You looked so furious. I was genuinely worried that you might be hurt or wouldn't talk to me for days, but when I went to see if you were okay, you dragged me in the mud with you." He smiled, somehow both warm and watery. "What a sneak, you were. There I was, worried about you, and you played me like a fiddle. Lightening all around us, causing your eyes to glow, and the both of us laughing, soaked to the bone and caked in mud like piglets. I had to carry you back inside because you'd twisted your ankle, but you were so damn slippery…"

She remembered. Of course she remembered. It had been one of the few times where they'd interacted with each other so physically. It was hard not to do when having a mud fight, rolling around and throwing the wet earth at one another, not a care in the world. She'd felt so scandalous after the fact, her clothes sticking to her frame, slicked with mud, but it hadn't seemed to bother Roy one bit. He'd laughed at her, swiping at her face and telling her that she had a bit of dirt on her nose. For once, the city boy hadn't minded being dirty. It had been an adventure in itself figuring out how to go back inside without making a huge mess.

"I got sick," Riza mumbled tiredly.

"You did indeed," Roy replied with a chuckle. "You were so worried about me, and yet you were the one that caught a cold. Stuck in bed for days with a fever and chills. I tried making you soup, but it was so terrible. I didn't tell you, but after that I bought some from town. I felt so guilty, thinking that I'd gotten you sick."

Riza closed her eyes. "You took care of me." When she felt Roy's hand on her forehead, she opened her eyes again to let him know that she hadn't drifted off.

"I did," Roy said quietly, "and I always will."

Her idiot Colonel. No matter how many times she tried to tell him, he insisted on protecting her as well. How was she supposed to do her job if the man she was supposed to guard was hell bent on getting himself hurt over her? It was frustrating, to say the least.

Shouts from somewhere threatened to peel her attention away from him. There was Fuery shouting at the medics and then people she didn't recognize came into view. She watched with regret as Havoc pulled Roy away from her. She wanted to nod her head to reassure him that she was fine, but was too distracted with the pain flaring through her body as the medics began to move her onto a stretcher. She closed her eyes, trying to swallow any groans, and latched onto the memory that Roy had brought up. She'd been so cold, just as cold as she felt now, but she also hadn't felt so alive. That was something she could hold onto.


	88. Given Name

**Author's Notes:** Sorry that I've been slacking in updating. Things have been particularly...hectic this week. Please enjoy! Thank you everyone for reading, for the follows and favorites, and for the reviews!

 _88\. Given Name_

Riza smiles at him, almost shyly, as she brushes his hair out of his face. Even when he slicks it back, invariably a few difficult strands will refuse to cooperate. It matches him, as everything else in his life does. Stubborn-minded to a fault, an organized mess in his heart, yet somehow charming and handsome despite it all. She knows that he goes to great lengths to keep this appearance up, putting so much work into looking like he doesn't put any work into his looks at all. He likes to come off as careless in his handsomeness.

And yet she knows that even the face that he presents is a side of him. He is both somehow reckless and careful at the same time, guarded and open, chaotic and controlled, studious and lazy, self-seeking and protective, loyal and distant, cold and yet so very hot. She thinks not for the first time that Roy is perfect in his imperfection. Every aspect of him is carefully constructed and yet a miracle that it works in itself. He's a walking contradiction. His facades have become a part of him as much as they aren't.

It only makes sense to her that they have come to this – that he has finally come to this, his life's goal, born out of pain and frustration. Only a man like Roy Mustang would seek power to protect those without it, his life wrapped up in his ambitious yet caring nature. Oh, of course, he wants to be the man at the top and he prides himself on that, but he is also so desperate to right any wrongs, to heal wounds, to sooth burns.

To some, Roy might not make any sense. He might seem confusing. They might even see him as terrible or even incredible. But they will never see him in the same way that she does. The people will only ever see him by so many things: the titles that he was worn in the past, the one he does now, the stars on his shoulder, the stern look on his face, the smug smirk that crosses his lips too often, Hero of Ishval, Hero of the Promised Day, the renowned Flame Alchemist.

But she alone can see Roy for who that he is all at once. He is good, bad, and every little thing in between – light, dark, and plenty of grey – fire and ice – hate and love – strength and weakness. He is all those things and all those things are him. It makes perfect sense to her.

Roy presses his forehead against hers. The stubborn strands of his hair tickle her nose and only make her smile more. "What are you thinking?" he murmurs quietly. It's just the two of them in the office and it would be near impossible for anyone to hear them inside, but old habits die hard.

"I was just wondering," Riza replies as she wraps her arms around his neck, "if your parents had any idea what you would become."

The low chuckle that rumbles through his chest warms her. "I've been told that I was somehow both a brat and a bookworm. A terrible combination, I'm sure."

Despite the humorous statement, Riza pulls her head back so that she can shake her head at him, the smile still on her face. "They had to have some sort of premonition though," she insists, "to name you what they did. It's not a common name in Amestris."

"I'll admit that I've thought about it," Roy muses, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "I don't remember much about them and Madam Christmas knew little more. She said my mother named me, which is odd, since my mother was from Xing."

Riza tries not to react to the feel of his body pressed so close to hers, but it's impossible to not feel warm. So long has the distance between them felt like a canyon that they would never cross. Something as simple as his name brought them to an impasse and she feels a little scandalous just talking about it, even though he has his arms around her waist.

"Do you know what it means?" Riza asks him.

Roy gives her his patented lopsided grin. "What what means?"

"Your name," Riza answers.

"And what would that be?" he teases her.

Riza could almost huff in response. She knows for a fact that he is teasing her. Instead, before she can tell him to stop being silly, he kisses her on the lips, needier than expected. She opens up to him, relishing the feel of his soft lips against her chapped ones. They've only kissed a handful of times in the past few years, but every single one manages to leave her breathless. This one is no different.

"Say it," he rumbles against her lips. His voice is almost a growl, reverberating in her mind. It catches her off guard, but before she can do anything, he kisses her again, harder this time, like he's trying to make her pant. "I want to hear you say it."

"Roy," she manages breathlessly. He grasps the back of her jacket tightly. She feels entirely too flushed. The name dances what little air there is between them. It's been ages since she's called him by his first name, but she would never be able to forget it. He would always be Roy to her, no matter what she called him. "Roy."

When he kisses her again, he swallows any words left in her. Here she is, kissing him and it's saying his name that manages to set them both alight. Something so simple and yet forbidden. She's grown so used to referring to him by his title or surname, using it as a barrier. The use of their titles has created a wall between them. It's strange to know that the wall they've carefully constructed over the years can be so easily destroyed by a simple word and yet here they are.

As they pull away from each other, Riza takes a deep breath and sweeps his hair out of his face again. After all that, his slicked back hair is coming down. He'll have to fix it before they leave the room. "It means 'king'," Riza says, which makes absolute sense.

Roy chuckles again. Both of them think of the codenames he's used since he was a Lieutenant Colonel. He gave himself the title of king and, in a sense, he is now, as Fuhrer. But even if he hadn't used that, he would have had that title anyways, as if his parents knew what the future held for their son, even if they would not live to see it themselves.

"Gives your codename a new meaning then, as my queen," Roy tells her, and she can't stop from smiling fondly at him even if she tried.


	89. Ultimate Weapon

**Author's Notes:** Just ignore me and my laziness when it comes to researching about how these situations are actually handled. I've seen a lot of movies to pathetically bs my way through things. Thanks everyone for reading!

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 _89\. Ultimate Weapon_

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Out of all the calls that they had to deal with, hostage situations were Roy's least favorite to deal with. For one, they took up an ample amount of time and energy. Two, there were innocent people directly involved in something that they had nothing to do with. And three, his charm didn't always work on the type of people that were inclined to take hostages. Roy prided himself on being an excellent speaker and, yes, even manipulate, at least with his words. When it came to hostage takers though, they didn't listen to him sometimes and that got on his nerves.

Okay, so that sounded a little selfish and maybe even bad, but it was the truth. He could trick a lot of people with his words and into doing things that he wanted them to do, so it was frustrating when it didn't work on others, especially when that meant that people could get hurt because of it. Hostage situations were one of the few times when he absolutely needed to be completely convincing and soothing, if only to protect others, and when he couldn't do it, when the criminals wouldn't listen, things could get ugly fast.

If he could avoid using the alchemy that gave him his title, then that was for the best. His greatest weapon wasn't his alchemy, but his words. There was that old saying, "The pen was mightier than the sword." Well, if his charisma wasn't strong enough, then his flame alchemy would certainly finish the job. He wondered many times if criminals that refused to listen to him didn't actually think he'd use alchemy, but every time it happened, they always seemed so shocked that he'd use flame alchemy in an urban setting. Then again, few people knew just how precise he could be, even they knew the deadliness.

Perhaps though, his alchemy and charm aside, his ultimate weapon wasn't even himself but his team.

With Breda having given him the lowdown on the situation, Falman digging up information on the hostage taker in question, Fuery setting up the comms between them, and Riza and Havoc in place, all Roy had to do was a bit of talking. He may have looked completely alone, but they did this together. And so that left Roy to attempt to coerce a man into not taking a life.

"I'm not going to lie to you, Braxton," Roy said, standing completely in the open. He could already hear Riza's barely contained frustration when she spoke with him later. She hated the way he dealt with hostage situations, as it put a target right on him, but he knew that she had his back. He liked to be upfront with hostage takers though so that they could take him at face value. "This isn't going to end well for you – we both know that the military does not take well to threats – but all I'm here for is to make sure that things end quietly as possible."

"Quietly?" the man sneered through a sheen of sweat. "Don't you mean putting me down like a rabid dog?"

Roy smiled thinly. "We both know that I'm the Dog here, not you." He truly did loathe talking people down, especially when they had a gun trained on someone. The young lady in Braxton's arms whimpered and stood as still as she could with a gun muzzle pressed against her temple. "And, as you can see" – Roy wiggled his bare fingers in front of him – "I'm unarmed."

"That wouldn't stop you!" Braxton tittered nervously, like a man close to losing it. Roy had known from the get go that this one would be impossible to get through. He'd had too many guns aimed at him for too long to think that he had a way out. By the time Roy's unit had arrived on the scene, the situation had devolved terribly. If they'd been able to get here sooner, he probably could have easily calmed the man down, but it was too late for that. "I know what you did in the War! You'll just burn us both! You don't care about people like us!"

"You're not entirely wrong," Roy admitted. "I'm capable of some pretty terrible things, but I'm not going to do that to you or this innocent young woman. I'd like to think I'm beyond that now – and that you're beyond this."

"I'm not…" The man's face crumpled into one of agony. "It's too late for me now and you know it!"

"Listen to me, Braxton," Roy said, taking a step towards him.

Braxton jumped back and dragged the woman with him, holding her tighter against him and shoving the muzzle harder against her, causing her to cry out. "Don't come any closer!"

"Or you'll shoot her?" Roy asked. His voice wasn't as callous as his words, but it didn't make them sound any less harsh. Sometimes, the only way to get through to someone was to be brutally honest, even though in the end that was just another form of manipulation. "And lose your only shield?"

"I'll–I'll shoot you!" Braxton exclaimed, turning the gun on him.

A single shot clapped in the air, closer to his own head than Roy had anticipated, but he didn't flinch. Even with his hands still up in defense and an impassive expression on his face, Roy didn't move a muscle when the clear sound of a gunshot startled everyone else. It took only a few seconds for Braxton's grip to loosen on both the hostage and his weapon and then collapse backwards. The woman stood there unsurely, but then took a choking breath and let out a scream when she felt warm blood on her face and hair. Only then did Roy rush forward, taking the woman in his arms and murmuring soothing words as he guided her to a pair of medics.

Once the victim was taken away from him, Roy reached up and rubbed at his right ear, which still felt and sounded like it was ringing from the gunshot. His eyes traveled up to the roof of the building in front of him, but he didn't see anything. He was still looking up there when Breda walked up to him.

"You okay, Boss?"

Roy dropped his hand and tilted his head. "You'd think she did that on purpose."

Breda snorted. "She was pretty pissed that you went in completely unarmed."

Nodding his head, Roy's attention was caught when he spotted Riza walking out of the building he'd been staring at moment's ago. The rifle was slung over her shoulder, like a purse almost, like it hadn't just been used to kill someone. It was only when she stopped to stand in front of him did she finally look him in the eyes. How long had it been since he'd stared into those eyes and not seen the eyes of a trained killer? He wondered if she ever thought the same about him. Still, there was not a hint of regret in her amber eyes.

"That was an excellent shot, Lieutenant," Roy commented. Judging from the reactions of the other military officers behind them, they had been thinking more along the lines of an impossible shot. It had been close, exceedingly too close for most people, but then again, none of them were the Hawk's Eye. Even Havoc probably would have been too wary to take the shot if he'd had her advantage despite being a great shot as well.

"I didn't have a clear shot until he moved to aim the gun at you," Riza pointed out calmly.

"Of course, I don't recall giving the signal to make a kill shot," Roy added.

His comment didn't seem to faze Riza one bit. "He pointed a gun at you. I made the judgment call to shoot."

"He might not have shot me. I could have talked him down."

"I couldn't take the chance that he might. I had to choose between ensuring your life or the possibility that we could save his. I chose you." Though Riza sounded relatively at ease, almost uncaring, Roy could tell that she was upset, with him, herself, and the situation. Just because she was adept at killing did not mean that she liked it. She knew that she would be forced to bear the responsibility of taking lives to protect others, to protect him. She would wash her hands with blood so that others didn't. She would be the ultimate weapon, his weapon, to help bring their goals to fruition. But she didn't have to like it. She wasn't someone like Kimblee. "If you'd like to write me up for insubordination…"

"For what? For saving my life?" Roy waved a hand in the air. "That sounds rather petty."

"For taking a life," Riza said softly.

Roy sighed. No doubt everyone knew how serious Riza was about her job, but it was harder for people to see just how deeply she cared about how it affected others. He shook his head at her. "You saved two lives today – mine and that young woman's. You made the call and I believe it was the right one. In the end, to pull the trigger is your choice and not mine. I gave you that right myself."

So what if he wasn't exactly talking about what had just happened right now? No one else but Riza needed to know that. And judging from the way she was looking at him now, she did. She always knew how to read between the lines with him though. That was just another thing he could count on from her.


	90. Hidden Expressions - Hidden Feelings

**Author's Notes:** Maybe it's just me, but I absolutely love a good undercover operations fic. They're so much fun! Thanks for reading!

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 _90\. Hidden Expressions/Hidden Feelings_

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Riza had been in the bar for over half an hour when Colonel Parker strode in. Patience was one thing that she did not lack, having spent countless of hours lying in the same position and staring through a scope under the sun, but other than Havoc, the rest of her counterparts weren't so lucky. She connected eyes were her fellow sniper across the bar and tucked a strand of hair behind her left ear before standing up from her seat and walking up to the bar. Positioning herself a few feet away from Parker, she ordered a Manhattan with the cherries muddled and then waited.

Parker was a fairly attractive man, all things considered. He was tall with a dark complexion and even darker hair and eyes. His smile was easy and confident as he spoke with his friend on the left, voice deep and rich. He was also married, of course, but that didn't stop his eyes from roving over towards the woman at the bar that had just ordered his favorite drink before he did.

For her part, Riza was wearing something that Rebecca would be more inclined to put on. In fact, she'd actually called her best friend for a few tips. It didn't have an open back like Rebecca would've preferred, but her friend had been wise to suggest nothing that left her back open. The red dress hugged her figure quite nicely and did what it needed to do by showing off her other assets. A small black jacket that stopped just under her breasts hid her back, but also managed to draw attention to her chest area as well.

It was the type of outfit that had Roy practically crawling out of his skin when she'd shown up for the assignment and matching dumb (yet knowing) grins from Havoc and Breda.

Parker swung around so that he was leaning back against the bar, his elbows propped up, and gave her a curious look over. "That's quite the particular drink you have there."

Riza smiled faintly as she brought the rim of the glass to her lips. "I'm a particular person."

"I'll have what she's having," Parker told the bartender, "and you can put her drink on my tab."

Most of the time, when men attempted to buy her a drink, Riza turned them down as demurely as possible. Roy was the worst about it. He wouldn't take no for an answer, even when she insisted that it might be construed as inappropriate. That only made him buy a round of drinks for the rest of the team to prove her wrong. This time, however, she inclined her head to him and took a sip of her drink.

"So what brings you here?" Parker asked her as he slid closer to her. "Surely you're not alone, are you?"

Riza set her drink back down. "Well, I wasn't supposed to be alone, but my date made plans to do something else at the last minute."

"That is an outrage," Parker insisted. "He doesn't know what he's missing out on."

"I figured I wouldn't let my evening go entirely to waste," Riza replied, looking him directly in the eyes. She'd only spoken with him for a few minutes, but already she could see hunger in them. There was nothing quite like a woman scorned, especially when she'd expected an exciting evening. She kept her face guarded just enough to be vague, but looked him dead on to come off as challenging. She'd been stood up – she was angry – and she wanted to get even. Revenge could be exhilarating if she was daring enough.

At least, that was what she wanted him to think.

"I like the optimism," Parker said. He ran a finger lightly down her wrist. "How about this? I have an open schedule tonight. Why don't you let me entertain you for the evening in that idiot's stead?"

Riza's smile broadened as she ran a finger around the rim of her glass twice counter-clockwise. "I would greatly appreciate it." On the other side of the bar, from her peripheral vision, she saw Havoc get up from his seat in a corner booth so that he could step out front for a smoke. She held out a hand. "Elizabeth."

"Colonel Adam Parker," he replied, taking her hand and kissing the top of it instead of shaking it. She could only hope that Roy hadn't seen exactly what the other man had done. He couldn't watch her closely like he wanted to, not without drawing some sort of suspicion or looking like a creep, which was why he'd positioned himself with a side view of the bar. Parker gestured. "Could I interest you in a game of pool?"

"Sure, though I must confess, I'm not all that good." Riza picked up her drink and followed him over to an empty table. "My aim's a little off usually."

"You're in luck then, my dear Elizabeth," Parker chuckled as he paid for a round. The balls tumbled out and he began to rack them as she stood to the side and set her drink down on a table. "I'm known for my excellent sharp shooting skills."

Behind Parker and not too far from their pool table sat Roy in the booth as he waited for Havoc's return. It was close enough to where he could now hear the conversation, even if his back was partially turned to them. She saw his shoulders tighten at Parker's words, but he merely shuffled through the cards in his hands, the queen of hearts twirling deftly in his fingers. He turned his head to face the door that Havoc disappeared through, but his eyes caught hers. She smiled and rolled her eyes before striding over to pick out a cue stick. Roy looked back at his cards and put the queen back in place.

"You break then, hm?" Riza leaned against the pool table.

"As you wish," Parker replied with a grin. He bent down, aimed, and hit the cue ball. It hit the racked balls and spread them across the table, sinking a solid ball in the corner left pocket. She clapped lightly as he swaggered over to take his next shot.

Havoc slipped back into the bar and weaved his way back to the booth. He picked up his cards and took a swig from his beer. "Best ten out of eleven? I'm feeling lucky this time."

"That's terribly convoluted," Roy scoffed.

Riza didn't even blink. Ten minutes. She could do this for longer – she'd had to do things like this for longer – but it didn't put her on edge any less. It wouldn't take long for Falman to thoroughly search Parker's car for the sensitive material that they knew he'd been taking and copying, but they needed to be careful and keep the time as low as possible. After all, it wouldn't do if one of their men was caught technically breaking into a superior officer's car, even if that man was under investigation. Parker could just disappear, married or not. It wasn't as if his wife was his top priority.

"Your turn," Parker told her.

Making her way around the table, Riza surveyed her options. "Stripes, right?" Parker nodded his head. She had a relatively easy shot with the thirteen, but she also knew that she'd have to throw away her dignity for this. When she bent down to aim, it was perfect at first, then she aimed a few centimeters to the right and the ball bounced off the rail uselessly. She sighed as she stood up.

"Close, sweetheart," Parker said.

"I always seem to get right on the edge and then…" Riza moved her hands in a mock explosion gesture.

Parker grinned at her again right before sinking the solid blue two in. "Well, with a little help from me, I could get you there."

Oh, this guy was worse than Roy and Havoc combined, but she was making it easy for him. Roy was getting agitated in his seat, but it could've been because of the terrible hand he'd been dealt in his card game with Havoc, and the shit eating grin on Havoc's face could've been due to the great hand he had. Could've been.

When it was her turn again, Riza looked up at Parker sweetly as he moved in behind her. "Here, let me." He helped position her just right, his body pressed up against hers. She could smell his cologne, the same kind that Roy used, which rather amused her. If she told Roy about that, no doubt he'd show up with different cologne tomorrow without any explanation. Parker leaned his close so that his mouth was close to her ear. "Just tap it, like a light kiss."

"I do tend to hit it too hard," Riza sighed.

Parker sucked in a bit of air. "Sometimes a rough touch is better." He slowly pulled away from her, but his hand slid down to linger on the small of her back. That sparked a flash of irritation. Roy liked to lightly put his hand on the small of her back when he wanted to guide her somewhere or gain her attention when they were in public.

This time, all thanks to Parker's help, when she hit the cue ball, her target went into its designated pocket. Riza straightened up, an excited look on her face and her eyes bright, and turned around. There was Parker, having not moved, so that he was damn near pressing her against the table with his body. The urge to push him away from her was almost violent, but she shoved it deep down. Not yet. She had to deal with him for a few minutes longer until Falman was done.

Sweeping away from him and giving him a challenging smirk, Riza set up her next shot on her own, making sure that she'd fail again. This continued on for the rest of the game, much like a game of cat and mouse. He would find ways to get close to her and then she'd wiggle away, teasing and laughing. At the booth, Roy and Havoc kept playing their card game. For his part, Roy looked more or less unaffected by what she was doing. She didn't know whether to be proud, relieved, or frustrated.

In the end, Parker won the pool game. She clapped for him once more as he mock bowed. He finished his drink and set it down. "One more round?" He pat down his jacket and then paused. "Oh, I must've left my wallet in the car. If you don't mind me stepping out for a moment–"

Riza's heart jumped into her throat. "I can pay for this round," she said, stepping towards Parker. "I did lose after all, so it only makes sense."

"Oh, no, I could never let a beautiful woman pay for my drink," Parker replied.

From their table, Havoc looked up and quirked an eyebrow. She heard him ask Roy if he they could pause the game for another smoke break and then watched as Parker glanced at the two men in the booth for a second before looking back at her. It meant nothing. It was highly unlikely that Parker would've recognized Havoc or Roy since neither of them had ever worked at Southern Headquarters, but even with a disguise, Roy's face had been in newspapers plenty of times years before.

"I think I can handle spending a few cenz," Riza insisted. Havoc was halfway standing up and froze when Roy grumbled about him taking another damn smoke break, but she heard the tenseness in his voice that perhaps no one else would've caught. His agitation wasn't with Havoc or his smoking habit right now. "I'd hate to come off as a sore loser."

Parker reached out to put a finger under her chin. "There are much better rewards that I can think of."

Riza probably would never understand how much willpower it took for Roy to not leap out of his seat when Parker leaned down and kissed her. All she knew was that he would never know just how much everything in her screamed and came to a roaring halt the moment the man's lips touched hers. How she forced herself to return the kiss was beyond her, but she knew that she had to be damn convincing if she was going to buy Falman a few more minutes.

"Now let me buy you a drink," Riza murmured when Parker pulled away. "Consider it as a show of gratitude for your services protecting the country."

"Elizabeth, I'm not certain how any man could have stood you up," Parker told her somewhat breathlessly.

All Riza could do was smirk as she walked back to the bar and Parker followed. Havoc returned to his seat and the card game began again, though she noted that Roy was being careful not to crumple the cards. She was not looking forward to the ride back to base. He was going to be terse and silent the entire time. She and Parker got another round of drinks, which she paid for, and then returned to the pool table to play another game. This time, she was a little better, but she still let him outplay her.

Over halfway through the game, with Parker becoming even bolder and more handsy with her, Breda stepped into the bar and plopped down in a chair to order a shot. From her position, she couldn't tell what it was. When Roy laid down his cards and proclaimed, "Looks like I won again, Jack," Riza almost sighed with relief out loud, but held it in at the last minute. Breda must've ordered a whiskey, which meant that Falman had been able to find the evidence and had gotten back to Fuery's spot.

Now all that was left was to extricate herself from the very pushy man that was their target.

Riza moved around the table, like she was trying to find her next shot, as Roy and Havoc stood up from their seats. Roy picked up his drink and turned to walk away when he staggered aimlessly and crashed into her, effectively spilling his scotch all over her front. A shame really, since this was such a lovely dress, but with care she'd be able to get the stain out. Unfortunately, she was going to smell like scotch for the rest of the night and she did not relish that smell like he did.

"Oh my god!" Riza gasped as the liquid seeped into the cloth of her dress and chilled against her skin.

"Shit," Roy hissed, grabbing a napkin from the booth and patting her stomach down. He cringed and handed her the rest, looking thoroughly embarrassed. "I'm so sorry! I wasn't paying attention and–"

Parker swooped in quickly. "Are you alright, Elizabeth? Did this idiot hurt you?"

"I'm fine, Adam, really," Riza said. "It was an accident."

Roy twitched a little, so small that she didn't even think Havoc noticed. "Shit, I'm really sorry. Do you, ah, do you want any money for the cleaners? I can–"

"She's fine, idiot," Parker interrupted roughly, stepping in between the two of them. Roy focused his eyes up on Parker. Despite the obvious threat, Roy still looked more embarrassed than scared, blinking slowly with wide eyes. Parker waved at Havoc. "Get your drunk friend out of here."

"Yes, sir," Havoc replied before pulling Roy away from the other man.

The two of them left the bar, but not before Roy threw one more apologetic glance at her over his shoulder. Riza didn't panic even if she was left alone with their mark. Breda was still sitting at the bar. If anything happened, he would be able to jump in. She trusted him to protect her more than Roy right now, if only because she knew that he wouldn't lose his cool like Roy would. At least Roy hadn't seemed inclined to put his ignition gloves on.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Parker asked, putting his hands on her arms.

Riza sighed. "I'm okay. My dress on the other hand…" She waved a hand down at it. "Ruined, I'm afraid. And it makes things a quite uncomfortable for me."

She spoke with him for a little longer, exchanging numbers with him and the promise that she would call. Staying out in a damp dress that smelled of scotch just wasn't very pleasant. He, of course, understood. Her night had been bumpy enough as it was, but he'd made things so much better for her. When he went to kiss her again, she turned her head so that he kissed her on the cheek and smiled demurely at him. Breda was still sitting at the bar top when she stepped outside.

By the time she made it back to the empty office that they were using as a communications base, Riza's heart had managed to stop pounding wildly in her chest. The tension that being undercover caused had all but left her, leaving her to breathe easy again. There was Fuery fiddling with the comms devices and Falman with the camera.

Havoc threw an arm around her shoulder. "Yo, Falman!" With an exasperated sigh, Falman held up the camera that also contained their evidence and took a picture of Havoc and Riza. She'd just barely managed to glance at the camera before the flash went off. Havoc's post-undercover-op pictures with her had become a strange habit by now, but endearing nonetheless. "Nice work, Hawkeye. You were very convincing. I think you almost gave the Colonel a heart attack though. Such a young age to die, isn't it?"

"I had the situation under control," Riza replied rather stiffly.

"I'm pretty sure Parker would've liked to have had _you_ under control," Havoc countered smugly.

Riza raised an eyebrow. She did not need to do anything else to let Havoc know that just because she was in a dress that did little to hide her figure did not mean that she wasn't armed. He pulled his arm away from her and held his hands up in surrender, but then chuckled as he walked over to greet Breda.

Noticing a distinct lack of someone, Riza felt eyes on her immediately and turned around to see Roy in the corner of the room, leaning against the wall with his arms across his chest as he casually surveyed everyone. Or at least he was trying to appear like he was watching everyone and not just her. When he realized that the jig was up, he cleared his throat. "You did well, Lieutenant."

"I did what I had to do to make sure that Falman wasn't compromised," Riza told him.

Roy nodded his head, but his eyes were more faraway than she'd expected. She stepped closer to him, meaning to ask him if he was okay, when he reached out and tugged on the hem of her jacket. The action was innocuous and yet it still managed to startle her. "I'll pay to have this cleaned."

"Sir, you don't have to do that."

"I'd like for you to have the opportunity to wear it again," Roy pointed out smoothly. "I'd hate for it to go to waste when it looks so exceptional."

Maybe to anyone else, his words would've meant very little. All he'd done was say that the dress was nice in the end. But she knew that wasn't what he meant and her cheeks turned pink. "Thank you, sir," Riza managed.

"He might be going to jail," Roy mused, "but Parker should consider himself lucky that he was able to spend this evening with you."

Riza's eyes softened under his gaze. Though he'd almost sounded amused, Roy's eyes said otherwise. Hidden under his light tone was something both of them could understand well: longing, frustration, fondness. For the most part, whenever Roy felt a hint of jealousy, it came out entirely the wrong way, spiked with anger and mood swings, to the point where she'd grown to expect his overprotective nature when he felt this way. Sometimes though, he surprised her with these gentle moments and it managed to take her breath away. It wasn't fair, not really, but it was the path they'd taken.


	91. Kiss

**Author's Notes:** This was briefly mentioned in **Drabble 45 ("Awakening")**. There were so many routes that I could have gone with this, but in the end, I wanted to write something sweet and fluffy. Thank you everyone for reading!

* * *

 _91\. Kiss_

* * *

They take walks in town sometimes under the pretense of gathering supplies. It's one of the few times that her father will allow him to postpone his studying without a fight. The small respite outside of the house is one that they are both grateful for, especially during the winter months when they're shut up inside more often than not. He may not like the cold all that much, but even he needs a break every once in a while and he likes going on these small, companionable walks with her.

Riza looks down the emptying street in the direction towards the house and sighs. "We should probably head back. It's getting dark."

Nodding his head, Roy says nothing in response. He can tell that she doesn't want to go back home, not just yet. Even though it's cold and he'd love nothing more than to curl up by the fire in a pile of blankets, he doesn't want to see her frown even more. It's strange how a simple drop of her lips can twist his heart so much. He's not sure what to think about that. He blames it on his dislike of disappointing people, but that's beginning to feel false. The truth is that he likes seeing her smile more than he dislikes seeing her frown, which makes little sense.

"Besides," Riza adds when she turns to look up at him, an amused look on her face, "you're going to turn into a popsicle if we're out here for much longer."

"I'm not that bad," Roy scoffs, even though he's close to shivering. The only reason he isn't miserable is because she insisted on him wearing a scarf and hat. She wrapped the scarf around him and then threw the end of it in his face before bounding out of the house for their evening excursion into town. Now, he tugs on the scarf wrapped snugly around his neck and buries his cold nose in the soft material.

Just as they start walking down the street again, hands occasionally brushing against one another, the lamp posts slowly begin to alight one by one. Riza stops in her tracks, mesmerized as the light from the lamps begin to dully glow in the darkening night. There's something magical about them, Roy thinks as well. They're old school, still lit by fire and oil, and he can't help but picture one day being able to wield those fires with flame alchemy. He could light up all the lamps in town for her and watch as the firelight glowed on her face. The lights reflect in her eyes, giving them a bright amber glaze.

Suddenly, Riza lets out a light gasp and points into the sky. "The first snow of the year!"

Perhaps it's silly, since she's nearly sixteen, but Riza never ceases to be excited about snow. The first time it snowed while he was at the Hawkeye Estate was also the first time he saw Riza express joy so boundlessly. She was the one to interrupt his studies then, what with her laughter and energy.

Years later, she's staring up in awe as tiny snowflakes begin to drift down towards them. Her lips are slightly apart as she gazes at the snow glinting in the light of the streetlamps. The moment his eyes turn away from the snow and onto her, Roy finds that he can't look away. Despite the cold wind and the snow, warmth seeps into his bones, stronger than any fire he could've taken refuge with. It spreads throughout his chest all the way to the tips of his fingers and toes until it feels like his hands are burning in his gloves with the desire to touch her.

The scene of snow slowly falling to the ground in front of the glowing lights and darkening sky in this cozy town is probably the most picturesque thing in the world, but all Roy can see is Riza. It strikes him in this moment that he has never seen her look so at peace or content, that she looks the same as ever and yet far prettier than he remembers. It's something so simple and yet it warms him and causes him to ache all the same.

When Riza turns to face him, a delighted smile on her face, Roy doesn't look away from her in embarrassment. Her eyes are so bright, her face open, her lips terribly pink. The tip of her nose is a little red from the cold air, though probably not as bad as his. The tips of her short blonde hair peek out from underneath her blue winter hat and he has to fight the urge to tug on it.

A faint questioning begins to creep in her eyes when he reaches out to pull her closer to him, but she doesn't look away and she doesn't say anything, not even when he takes off one of his gloves so that he can place his hand against her cheek. Her skin is cold and soft, like porcelain, while his hand is hot. Her breath turns into a puffy cloud as she breathes shallowly. He's not even sure if he is breathing as he leans closer to her.

Her eyes, so focused on his, flicker with a range of emotions, so many that he's not able to catch all of them. He sees the same warm fondness as always that she reserves for him when they're alone on these little trips, the look that keeps him up at night if he thinks about it for too long. There's also confusion and maybe apprehension, like she doesn't know what he's doing or–

No, maybe he read her wrong. Roy hesitates right when he's an inch away from her lips. Is it anticipation in her eyes or is it fear?

Before he can think any further though, Riza ends the distance between them, stepping up on her tip toes so that she can press her lips against his. They're not soft or wet, chapped from the bitter wind, just as his are. Their noses bumped together uncomfortably. Roy is both too eager and suddenly scared at the same time while Riza is steady and determined. It's altogether not an amazing first kiss.

But never in his life has he felt such an explosion of heat in his chest and never has he wanted a kiss so much.

Roy grips her coat tighter, pulling her flush against him, as Riza wraps her arms around his neck. Slowly, just as the streetlamps began to light their way, the two of them find an easy rhythm. Once their nerves die down, they kiss each other with warmth and gentleness. Their chapped lips turn soft, the kissing becomes smoother. Roy hasn't felt this hot in ages. It's like Riza is a fire under his lips.

When they finally pull away from one another to breathe, the puffs of their breath mixing with one another, both of them begin to laugh. Roy's is more of a chuckle, deep and in his chest, so that it reverberates against her body whereas Riza laughs freely, the sound so rich and vibrant. He has only heard her laugh so openly a handful of times – she's far too reserved for anything else – but he relishes it and hungers to hear it more. The sound propels him forward to kiss her again and he grins against her lips as she returns the kiss just as keenly.

How it has taken him this long to kiss her, Roy will never know. All that he knows is that he doesn't want to stop. He picks her up, swooping her in the air as the snow falls around them, and she laughs again. If they don't leave now, the walk home will be cold and dark, but neither of them cares. He doesn't want to leave this moment, and so they laugh and kiss and run through the streets like they are the only ones in town, like there isn't a heavy future waiting for them when they fall to the ground like the snow.


	92. Happiness?

**Author's Notes:** Sorry I haven't been updating consistently. A lot has been going on in my life lately that has caused me to be distracted from simply uploading things. Thank you everyone for reading, for the follows and favorites!

* * *

 _92\. Happiness?_

* * *

Roy rolls over to stare at the wall. It's dark blue and sparse with decorations. There are no pictures hung up in the bedroom or on the dresser. He can barely see, the only source of light from a streetlamp casting jagged streaks of light through the slits of the blinds. A clock ticks somewhere behind him near the door. There's the sound of a car driving by every now and then, but at this hour, most people are asleep and the world is dead to the thoughts in his troubled mind.

He thinks, not for the first time, that he has terrible timing. This is not the time for him to be struggling with doubt and self-loathing. He should be… What? Content? Relieved? Sated? He is those things, true – that he can't deny – but then he's rocked with guilt as well. Just breathing here is causing his throat to constrict. His body is still slick with sweat and the heat feels like it'll never leave him, but he fights the urge to shiver. He undeniably feels better and at the same time feels ashamed about feeling so good.

When he feels fingertips press into the knots on his back, Roy closes his eyes and takes a breath. Such tender and gentle touches from calloused fingers that have pulled triggers to maim and kill. He wishes that he could take her hands in his and kiss all the blood away from them. Instead he turns back around to face her.

Riza is always so unreadable in the moments after they crash together. It's partially why he almost always turns around for a moment of respite. He can't bear to look at her and not know exactly what she's thinking. She tells him what's on her mind by pressing into him, exhaling her fears when she sighs in his ear, releasing her pain and frustration by tugging on his hair and scratching her nails down his back, opening herself up to him when she comes apart at the seams, telling him exactly what she wants when he pulls him against her and doesn't back down from his gaze.

And then, afterwards, she's gone, if only for a moment. It's her way of protecting herself, he knows, and in a way protecting him. She can't remain completely available to him forever, even if she is lying naked in bed with him. He doesn't know what to do with himself if she did. His goals would slide. They'd fail in comparison next to her. And he can't do that, not to her, not to himself, not to the people whose lives he helped destroy. He would lose himself in her if she was always open to him.

It doesn't make it hurt any less.

Roy brushes her bangs out of her face. "Is this happiness?"

"Are you asking me if I'm happy?"

"I don't know," Roy admits. "Maybe, maybe not. I can't really tell, to be honest."

Riza is silent for a while. She continues to look him in the eyes before she drops her gaze. A rather troubled expression crosses her face, one that pulls at his heart and nearly makes him move closer to her so that he can kiss her on the forehead. Nonetheless, he stays still and lets her have her much required space.

"I suppose," Riza begins quietly, "that I should be happy with what I can get."

It's not exactly an answer. Roy frowns to let her know that. It's been years since he was able to delude himself into believing that he could make her truly happy. Like when they were teenagers and all he wanted to do was make her smile and laugh. Hold her hand and pull her into his arms, kiss her on top of her head, and talk about how great the future was going to be – their future. He had a lot of dumb dreams when he was younger. Still does, if he's being honest.

His dream to make her happy though? It seems farther and farther from his reach every day and he can't help but feel like it's been on the back burner for too long to be any good.

"I don't regret my choice to follow you, if you're wondering," Riza continues, her eyes focused on his again.

His fingers tangle in her hair. He does wonder, often. He wonders if she ever feels the urge to pull the trigger, if she thinks about what her life would've been like had she not been swept away by his foolish dreams into the military, if she wishes that his shadow never would've crossed the doorstep of her childhood home. He thinks of those things because he wonders about them himself. What would her life have been like if not for him? Or had she always been destined for this? Forever marked by the destruction that alchemy could bring. It's not fair, for her to be so deeply touched by something she wanted nothing to do with, but it's impossible to take back now.

Riza rests a hand in the crook of his neck, a finger sliding up and down his neck near his pulse point. "This isn't an ideal situation and I hate…" She twists her lips into something resembling a mirthless smile. "I hate not being able to be with you completely. You must know that." He does. He hates it too. He just wants to her to be free to do so. "But I'm content with what I have now. It's more than I expected, maybe more than we both deserve. I'll take what little I've been given – what little you can give me. And I choose to be happy about that."

Letting out a sigh, Roy closes his eyes. "So straightforward and honest."

"You expected something else?"

"No." Roy opens his eyes again and smiles faintly, the type of smile that is reserved for the dark when he can allow a bit of weakness. "It's more than I could hope for, at least for now."

"Always wanting more, are you?" Riza says with a teasing lilt.

Roy pulls her closer to him so that she's fit against his body and he can rest his chin on the top of her head. He's not that much taller than her, truth be told, but he's broader and in these moments she becomes so small against him that it's quite astounding. "When it comes to your happiness? Always."


	93. Shackles

**Author's Notes:** Thank you so much for your review, **Thranen**! It meant so much to me to hear things like that. I too have been having a rough time of things and just getting a comment like that put a huge smile on my face. I'm glad you're enjoying it so much! As for this one, it's not exactly a...happy one...at all. But it's gotten really popular for some reason. Riza mentions the events of this drabble to Ed in Drabble 37 ("Dog") and is the catalyst to my one-shot Wildfire. Also vanyaliful on tumblr did an incredible piece of artwork for this drabble, which had me grinning like an idiot and almost in tears. So please enjoy!

* * *

 _93\. Shackles_

* * *

For what was probably the hundredth time, Riza tested the shackles around her wrists and grimaced. They were still clasped around her tight, but the blood seeping from cuts she'd finally been able to make a few hours ago were making it easier for her to wiggle her wrists around. To think that hurting herself had actually enabled her this much room was saying something, but she was willing to do anything to get out of this.

It had only been two days, she reasoned with herself. Two days of being held captive in what appeared to be some sort of underground bunker. She wasn't for sure, seeing as how she hadn't been conscious when she'd first been dragged her and tossed inside unceremoniously. That caused a disadvantage. She had no idea how far she had been taken, no idea of where she was at, and no idea of how to get back to safety even if she did escape. It was frustrating, to say the least.

Riza sighed to herself as she rested against the wet, stone wall. It wasn't comfortable in here. They'd given her nothing to cover herself from the cold except for the clothes on her back. For perhaps the first time in her life, she wished that she was wearing her military uniform. That would've been able to offer her some warmth, not like the skirt and blouse she was currently wearing. If she didn't get out of here soon though or they didn't give her anything, she'd risk injury to exposure.

At least they hadn't done much in the way of physical torture. The most they had done was smack her hard enough to knock her on the ground, but another man had jumped in to hold the other one back before he could do anything else. Something about "not wanting to incur the wrath of Flame anymore than they already had," but she couldn't be for certain as her head had been spinning.

Besides that though, the worst of her injuries extended from when she'd been attacked unawares in her house. She felt like an idiot for letting them get the best of her, but the moment she'd seen Black Hayate unconscious on the ground, she had panicked. Besides, three against one wasn't fair and she had managed to shoot one of them before getting hit in the head and choked into unconsciousness. The wound on the back of her head still stung, but the blood had dried into a matted knot in her hair.

Two days. Riza closed her eyes. She wondered how the team was holding up. She wondered how Roy was taking things. He'd only been a Colonel for a month and had been involved in some work trying to rebuild the east. It had been slow going, hit by multiple setbacks from people sabotaging the work. There were so many anti-military groups hidden in the east after the Ishval War that it didn't matter if someone in the military was trying to repair things, not when they had been the ones to damage them in the first place.

She hoped they were okay, that she was the only one that had been taken, apparently to be used as leverage against the new Colonel in order to get the military out of here. It was stupid, of course. Even if she was killed, it would only serve to bring even more men in to squash any hint of rebellion. And that wouldn't matter either. If she was killed during her capture, anyone involved would be eliminated before Central could send more troops in. She had no doubts about that. Roy wouldn't let anyone out alive if that happened.

Which was why she had to escape. She couldn't let him do that. It'd break his soul and she wouldn't be around to force him to keep his promise.

Wiggling her wrists in the shackles with her blood acting as an oiling agent, Riza bit her tongue to keep herself from hissing in pain. When she'd been knocked to the ground, it had allowed her to grab hold of a jagged rock on the ground. She'd used it to dig into her skin until she began to bleed freely. With a bit of luck, she could maybe slip out of her restraints. It was a strange thought to be thankful for having small, delicate wrists and hands when she'd cursed them before, but now they would come in handy. They'd closed the shackles around her as tight as possible, but it still left her with room to work with.

She squeezed her fingers together, pressing them against the wall in order to flatten them more, and wiggled and pulled, scraping the wound even further. She could feel her wrist slipping against the blood and metal and then, finally, her hand popped out. It took her biting down on her lip again keep herself from gasping out loud. With one free hand, she was able to hold her fingers together and pull her wrist out of the other shackle. Taking a deep breath, she held her hands in front of her, the ache in her shoulders are the more apparent from having her hands bound behind her back.

It embarrassed her slightly to see her hands shaking and she turned them into fists to still herself. Blood seeped down the pale skin of her arms. No matter. She hadn't lost a lot of blood. When she went to stand up though, she nearly fell back down again, collapsing against the wall. Of course, she hadn't been given any food in the past two days. The cup of soup and sandwich she'd had in the mess hall at headquarters for lunch the days she'd been kidnapped was pointless by now. She hated feeling so weak, but there was nothing she could do about it now. It was either fight or sit and wait, and she refused to do the latter.

Roy was out there looking for her, the team most likely struggling to keep him tethered. She could only imagine what he was going through right now, probably blaming himself for her kidnapping, both assuring everyone that she was alive and plagued by doubts that she wasn't. He was probably chewing his nails, something that he hadn't done since Ishval. She hoped Havoc was keeping an eye on him in her stead. Most importantly, she hoped that someone had called Hughes. He would've hopped on the first train to Eastern Headquarters. If anyone could keep Roy from losing a vital piece of himself, it was Hughes. Plus, the man was a damn good investigator.

When she heard noises from the other side of the door, Riza knew that it was now or never. She eyed the shackles again, considering pretending that she was still chained up, but she didn't like the idea of having to jump to her feet quickly. Instead, she positioned herself behind the metal door and waited for it to swing open. Her heart beat fast in her chest, her breathing was labored, but her hands were steady again. She took another breath as the doorknob was twisted and then the door began to open.

The door was only partially pushed inside when a man exclaimed, "What the–?"

Riza jumped into action before he could finish, slamming her body into the door and shoving it hard against the man who was standing in its way. He fell sideways, his head hitting the wall, and his body slumped to the ground. She rushed around the door and snatched the gun out from his holster. Without missing a beat, she raised the gun and shot the man guarding her door right as he was raising his weapon. The guard fell to the ground with a heavy grunt.

Dragging herself up again, using the door handle as a prop, Riza looked down at the unconscious man on the ground. He had been the one to hit her and also the one that had begun to suggest other means of getting her to talk. She pointed the gun at him and shot him in the head. She couldn't take any chances that he might follow her. It struck her as the first time that she'd technically shot an unarmed person, but she couldn't think about that right now. She could've shot him in the leg, but then…

(No, he was dead the moment he hit her. Riza was not in the business to lie to herself. The man would've never come out of this alive. Better his blood on her hands than Roy's.)

The trip through the bunker was strange. There were more hallways than she'd expected. Maybe it was more of a basement. She meandered through the place, sticking close to the walls for both cover and support, but she was lucky enough not to run into anymore people. When she finally found stairs, her heart leaped into her throat out of joy, but she also knew that it could be her downfall. She was at a disadvantage. She had no idea what lied beyond the door. There could be ten men up there for all she knew.

Creeping up the stairs slowly, Riza pressed an ear to the door, but couldn't hear anything. Her head was too foggy as it was. She held the gun at the ready and went to carefully twist the doorknob when the door opened abruptly and she came face-to-face with the man that had been interrogating her for the past two days. It was strange seeing such an innocently surprised expression cross his face.

The next second though found the two of them in a physical struggle as he tried to take the gun from her. She shouted as the gun went off once, right past his head, completely useless. The fight wouldn't last much longer though. She was weak, so weak, no matter how much adrenaline was rushing through her right now and the man was bigger and stronger than her besides that. He grinned at her, the same thought running through his mind, and Riza practically growled.

Her legs suddenly buckled under the weight of him and she choked on a squeak as she fell back down the stairs, dragging him down with her. She used every bit of her strength to twist her body and fold in on herself and let go of the gun despite her reservations. Because of it though, she was able to protect herself better as the man hit the stairs first and both of them tumbled down the stairs until he hit the wall and she landed against him.

A large part of her wanted to drag herself up the stairs and flee without looking back, but the better part knew that getting the control of the gun was more important. She looked around blearily until she spotted it lying on the ground a few feet away and launched herself towards it. Just as she grabbed the gun, the man grabbed one of her ankles and jerked on it harshly. There was a pop, not quite a crack, but she ignored it and twisted around to shoot the gun. The bullet hit him right in the face, spattering blood over her lower half and the wall. She breathed shakily as she stared at the gruesome sight and then pulled her ankle out of the dead man's grip.

The walk up the stairs was more painful this time around, but when she made it through the door, she was relieved to find herself alone. It was an old cabin. She made her way through the place until she burst outside, sunlight gleaming against her eyes painfully. There had been light where she'd been held, but it had been so dull. Everywhere she looked was trees.

Riza pressed a hand against her forehead to cover her eyes. Trees. She was in a forest. The closest forest to Eastern City was…around ten miles to the north. She limped over to a truck, but when she jerked on the handle, she found it locked. She could go back inside the cabin and search for the keys, maybe check one of the bodies, but… God, she didn't want to go back in there. She hadn't even thought to check for a phone. All she'd been able to think of was that she wanted to get out of there as fast as possible. There was no way that she'd be able to get back on foot though.

Riza slumped against the car, willing herself not to cry or panic. There was no time for that, not when she needed to get back to Roy. She needed to see his face, to center him again. He probably hadn't slept in two days. Lack of sleep would make him both sloppy and dangerous to others and himself. How many times had he snapped at the others for not coming up with any leads? Had he drank anything or abstained to work himself ragged? Was he eating anything or had the sandwich Fuery gotten him gone to waste?

As she stood there silently, swallowed by her thoughts, a noise caught her attention. It was the sound of a car driving on a road. Riza perked up and looked around, listening carefully again. Yes, that was a car. There was a road nearby, sounding like it was to the right of her. She headed resolutely through the trees, still gripping on the gun tightly and trying her best to ignore the throbbing pain of her ankle. It was probably only fifteen minutes of her shuffling through the woods, but it felt like hours before she finally popped out in the open, tripping and falling to her knees on the side of a road.

When she saw a car driving towards her, Riza had to weigh her options. It could be a regular civilian – or it could be someone that was a part of the group that had kidnapped her. She needed a vehicle though. She had to take the chance.

Jumping in the middle of the road, Riza held the gun and pointed it directly at the car. It came to a halting stop in front of her, the old woman behind the wheel looking both shocked and terrified. Still, Riza didn't put the gun down as she rounded the vehicle and stepped next to the driver's side. "My name is Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye," she stated in what she hoped was a strong voice. "I'm sorry to frighten you, ma'am, but I need to commandeer your vehicle to get to Eastern Headquarters."

"O-of course!" the woman's eyes traveled from the gun to Riza's face, taking note of the blood and grime.

Riza hesitated. "I…I don't know exactly where I am."

The two women looked each other in the eyes until the older woman reached over to unlock the passenger door. "I'll take you there." Riza nodded gratefully and walked around to get in the car. She didn't know whether to continue pointing the gun at the woman or not, just in case, but decided against it the moment the old woman began to floor it and fly down the highway. "Are you…? I don't know what happened to you, but you look like you need to go to a hospital."

"No!" Riza exclaimed. She gripped the gun tighter in one hand and touched the back of her head gingerly with the other. "I need to go to Headquarters. The Colonel…" She felt herself wavering in her seat, the adrenaline having left her system, but she couldn't let go of herself now. She wasn't out of the woods yet, literally and figuratively speaking. "Headquarters first, hospital second."

The drive was quick, mostly thanks to the older woman. Riza stopped speaking after that, not wanting to waste any of her strength, but also because she wasn't certain that she'd be able to keep up a show of strength. She was worried about passing out and then waking up to find herself back in captivity again. When Eastern appeared on the horizon, she had to put a hand against her mouth to keep from crying out. The old woman laid a comforting hand on her shoulder.

It was all so terribly surreal.

After pulling up in front of Eastern Headquarters, Riza went to get out of the car. She fell to her knees though, the gun clattering on the ground. Tears pricked at her eyes when she felt hands help her up and she looked into the eyes of the old woman. They were scared again, but not for herself. Riza tried to mumble some sort of thanks, but the woman shook her head and began to help her up the stairs. A passing Sergeant went to question then when his eyes widened at the sight of Riza's face.

"L-Lieutenant!" the young man gasped.

"Get the Colonel," Riza managed through gritted teeth. The Sergeant saluted and then ran inside. Riza motioned for the wall and the woman helped guide her over to it. With little energy left in her, Riza fell against the stone and the woman carefully guided her to the ground. Riza blinked dizzily at the old woman and closed her eyes. She hadn't even asked her name. How rude of her…

What in the hell was protocol for escaping captivity? Her only thought had been to get back to her team. She didn't know what else she was supposed to do. She hadn't been able to think of anything else.

"Lieutenant!"

Oh, she knew that voice, but it had been ages since she'd heard it so strained. Not since…not since he'd burned her back.

When she opened her eyes, she found Roy staring at her, his eyes swirling with too many emotions for her to count. She saw shock, fear, relief, and… Well, that was one was a little too much for her to contend with right now. He brushed her hair out of her face and then roved his eyes over her to check for any injuries. When he caught sight of her wrists and the blood on her hands and arms, he let out a breath.

"We've been searching for you non-stop," Roy told her in a trembling voice. "There was no ransom, no clues to your whereabouts, just complete radio silence…" He took her hands in his. Around them, the world was alive with people rushing. Breda had pulled the old woman aside to speak with her, Havoc was shouting at men to get a medic… But it was just the two of them in their world. "You didn't show up for work and I…I knew something was wrong. Havoc and I went over to your apartment and saw signs of a struggle…"

"I'm fine," Riza sighed tiredly, reaching out to smooth his hair. She stopped herself though and let her free hand drop into her lap. "Just…exhausted and hungry. And cold." Roy moved quickly, taking his jacket off and placing it over her like a blanket. It smelled like him. A hint of his aftershave and smoke, but not the normal kind of smoke that she'd grown used to from him. She narrowed his eyes at him accusingly. "You smoked some of Havoc's cigarettes."

Roy smiled apologetically. "An old nervous habit to keep myself awake. They taste terrible." He glanced back at the woman that had driven her here. "How did you…?"

"I got an opportunity and I took it," was all Riza said.

"Of course, of course." Roy nodded his head. "We need to get you to a hospital. We can debrief you later. The people that captured you…"

Riza shook her head. "Dead. Or at least the three that I saw are. I don't know if anyone else was involved."

The two of them locked eyes with one another. She saw in his eyes how sorry he was. She didn't need for him to speak out loud for her to know that he regretted that she had to do something like this – that him being who he was had forced her into this terrible position. With a commanding officer like Roy Mustang, it was given that their lives were threatened. He was rising high, terribly fast, and made as many enemies as he did friends.

"I did this–"

"Don't," Riza cut in with a surprising amount of strength. "I don't want to hear that."

Roy dropped his eyes. "I put you in harm's way."

"You're not the one that kidnapped me," Riza told him heatedly, "so I don't want you taking the blame." With his hands still holding one of hers, she gripped his fingers. "I want you to solve this, do your job. It won't happen if you're clouded with guilt."

He dropped his head further, to the point where it looked like he was bowing in front of her, asking for her forgiveness. Riza sighed. He always took everything to heart, whether he wanted to or not. He came off as so cold and uncaring to some people that it was easy for them to miss how much he cared about everything and how much it wounded him to do so.

"I was scared," Roy admitted quietly. "I was scared and furious and desperate that you might be…"

"But I'm not," Riza said in a much gentler voice. This time, when she reached out, she allowed her fingers to sink into his hair. No one else could see them. Havoc and Falman were blocking them from view. She'd have to thank them later. "I'm alive. I'm safe. I'm with you."

The medics arrived and Roy was forced to part from her. He watched her with a heavy gaze, dark circles under his eyes. Fuery rode with her to the hospital. She hadn't wanted to be alone, but Roy couldn't go with her yet and she'd told Havoc to stay with the Colonel. She closed her eyes as a paramedic spoke over her and allowed the movements of the truck lull her to an uneasy sleep. She needed all the rest she could get after the past two days and she knew that the coming days would be just as difficult. Hospitals, bandages, debriefings…

And she would wake up to Roy's eyes flittering between hot and cold when she explained what had happened. A part of her hoped that only those three men that she'd killed had been involved. If there was anyone else… Well, she did not want to dwell on what she knew would happen to them.


	94. From Yesterday

**Author's Notes:** Thank you everyone for the reviews! It was so lovely to see them today. Definitely made work a lot more pleasant. As for this one, the next three are tied together by a simple theme. I was struggling about what to do for these three when sometimes came to me: why not tie them together somehow? This is the more lighter one of the three, to be honest. And they ended up being tied to an overarching plot that I honestly never intended. For now though, enjoy this one!

* * *

 _94\. From Yesterday_

* * *

It had taken a week of extra studying, performing more chores than what was thought possible, a bit of luck and some finagling, and a lot of convincing on Roy's part that allowed them to go to the festival two towns over. Now that they were here, Riza could hardly believe it. After all, she'd never been to a festival before, not like Roy, who had told her that there were all sorts of festivities and celebrations that went on in Central.

When Riza had found out that there was going to be a festival, she had been excited but not hopeful. It wasn't like her father to allow her to go to such things and besides there was money to consider. She'd saved up what she could over the summer, but her father would just consider it useless spending. Money would have to be spent to hitch a ride there and back, plus money on food and whatever else happened at festivals. Just when she had tried to put the idea of going out of her mind, Roy had knocked on her door and surprised her with tickets that he'd managed to get from a shopkeeper.

Apparently, he'd started to work a few odd jobs in town to make extra money while she was in school and then he'd asked his foster mother back in Central if she could lend him some as well. It had been a shock, one that had honestly almost made her cry, but she'd relegated to merely throwing her arms around him in a hug. She'd pulled away from him, blushing to her roots but beaming brightly. His own cheeks had been a little pink, but it was probably due to him studying by the fire all night.

The festival did not disappoint. It was dark out and lights were glowing everywhere. There were streetlamps and other lights dangling around, hanging over the street, booth to booth. A band was playing music somewhere and people were dancing in the streets. All sorts of delicious smells battled one another in the air as food was being cooked. There was stuff she recognized, but also strange food that Roy pointed out only came about when a festival happened. Children ran around laughing and chasing one another, playing silly games set up in booths. There were stuffed animals lined up everywhere. People crowded the streets, all smiles and content.

Riza had a difficult time deciding what she wanted to do. She didn't know if she wanted to try one of the foreign foods or something that she knew was delicious. And then there were all the craft booths to look at. They looked like simple contraptions, maybe even something that Roy could make with alchemy, but she knew that they were all done by hand. It was all pretty overwhelming.

Biting her lip, Riza looked up at Roy. "What do you want to do?"

"Hey, this is your night, not mine," Roy replied. Some people might've thought he was trying to be chivalrous; Riza knew that he just didn't want to make a decision and was passing it off on her. When she gave him a flat look, a sheepish grin spread on his face and he held his hands up in the air. "You lead the way; I'll follow."

"We could…get something to eat?" Riza offered. All Roy did was shrug his shoulders in response. Her eyes surveyed the booths. There were chicken and dumplings, fudge and other sweets, fried catfish and chips, apple dumplings, and more – and then there was the food that she didn't recognize. "That booth sells Xingese food. Is it any good? I've never had it before."

"I haven't had it in years," Roy confessed, "but I always loved getting it in Central. Of course, it's not usually very authentic, according to my aunt, but that place looks a little more…legitimate."

Riza all but dragged him over to the small line in front of the booth. "Let's try it out."

When she went to fish money out of her pocket though, Roy grabbed her hand to stop her. She looked up at him in surprise, but he didn't look away in embarrassment. "I've got this."

"Oh, no, I couldn't," Riza said. "You paid for the ride here..."

"And I've still got this," Roy insisted, pulling money out of his wallet. "It's not often I get to spoil a pretty girl."

Riza could've blamed the sudden gust of air and the cool fall night for her pink cheeks, but she knew that it was a lie. She swatted at his arm, but couldn't stop herself from smiling idiotically as Roy winked and ordered for the both of them. They moved to the side of the street so that they could sit on the sidewalk and eat their fair food. It was spicier than she anticipated, but there was so much flavor that she'd never had before. She wondered if it was possible to find any of the spices used to recreate the dishes, but then figured they'd probably be expensive.

Glancing over towards Roy, she noted that he finished his food quickly. "Better than what we normally get to eat, isn't it?"

"I think you're a tremendous cook," Roy told her.

"Flattery will get you nowhere," Riza replied with a laugh.

"I don't know," Roy mused. "It convinced you to go to this festival with me."

Riza rolled her eyes at him, but didn't deem him a response. He merely chuckled. She finished up her food as he went up to buy them a drink to split. (The food was spicy, but she didn't want to admit that it was starting to get to her.) They wandered around more, looking at the different crafts and trinkets. While she ended up stuck in an art booth for a minute, Roy was fascinated by unique metal sculptures created by alchemy. His fascination had been slightly off put by the indifferent and arrogant alchemy artist who proclaimed that few could reach his talents, least of all someone as young as Roy.

"He's going to be the most brilliant alchemist in Amestris," Riza declared somewhat furiously. The artist stared with his mouth slightly agape and his eyebrows rose when she, a short blonde-haired girl that didn't look very threatening, poked him in the chest and glared at him. "Much better than you could ever imagine."

Whether Roy or Riza pulled the other out of the tent was difficult to determine. Both of them had a hand on the other, tugging at each other, as they left the area. Roy looked down at her. "You didn't have to say that. It was nothing. I was fine."

"The man is an idiot," Riza said, still sounding fierce. Roy gave her an amused look. "I've seen you perform transmutations on metals that were beyond your years."

Riza calmed down by the time Roy got her a hot chocolate. It was getting cold, though it didn't bother her nearly as much as it did him. Still, it felt nice to hold the warm cup in her hands. There were a few more booths to look at and then they began to watch kids play some of the booth games. They all seemed silly to her and easy to win, but then very few of the kids won.

"How about this?" Roy said, pointing at one of the game booths. "I'll win you a stuffed animal – whichever one you want – for protecting my honor."

"I thought you said they were rigged?" Riza asked curiously.

Roy shrugged his shoulders. "Only some."

They walked up to the booth he'd pointed out. Riza stood to the side as Roy paid for the game. It seemed simple enough. It was a shooting game. All he had to do was hit a few targets and then he'd win something. They were maybe less than two yards away from the targets. The rifle seemed a little pitiful, but that was probably because it was just a pellet gun and not an actual rifle. She nudged one on the counter, noting its light weight, and then watched as Roy aimed.

His first shot was right on target. He grinned at her. The second shot…not so much. The third, fourth, and fifth followed, all to no avail. Roy sighed as he sat the gun down. Then he pulled a few more cenz out and paid for another game. The second time around, he missed every single shot. His frustration was evident as he furrowed his brow and chewed on the inside of his cheek. He paid for another game. This time, he managed to hit three out of a five, but still, no win.

Riza bit her lip to keep herself from giggling and put a hand on his arm to still him from pulling more money out of his pocket. "It's fine, Roy, really. I don't need a stuffed animal."

"Now it's a matter of dignity," Roy grumbled. "How hard can it be to win a damn stuffed tiger?"

"Maybe it is really is rigged?" Riza said. The man behind the booth gave an affronted snort that Riza chose to ignore. She pulled out some money and set it on the counter. "Let me try."

"This is more of a man's game, little lady," the man pointed out.

Roy probably would've fought her on it had the man not said something like that, so she silently thanked him instead of glowering at him. Handing her over the pellet gun, Roy told her, "Good luck."

It was lighter than the M1 carbine back home, but heavier than she'd expected, most likely due to some weight added in the butt of the gun. She adjusted her grip and aim and then squeezed the trigger. She hit the first target. Roy nodded his head. The man looked somewhat impressed. When she quickly eased off the next four shots in succession, hitting the other targets, the man took his hat off to rub his slicked back hair and whistle while Roy stood there silent and gaping.

After the man handed her a stuffed tiger, Riza cheekily held it out to Roy. "For you."

Roy took the stuffed animal, the stunned expression on his face. "I believe you just crushed whatever was left of my dignity, but for some reason, I don't care." He shook his head at her. "That was incredible."

"I've had a lot of practice," Riza said simply.

"Remind me to never piss you off," Roy said. Even though most guys probably would've felt awkward carrying around a stuffed animal, he seemed to hold onto it with pride. "I shall cherish this for the rest of my days."

Riza laughed and leaned against his arm briefly. "Thanks for taking me here. I really do appreciate it."

"And I really will keep this," Roy added, holding up the stuffed animal. For the rest of their time at the festival, he walked with one hand clutching the toy and the other holding her hand. It was one of the best nights of Riza's life, one that she would never forget.


	95. Now

**Author's Notes:** This drabble is tied to Drabble 94 ("From Yesterday"). Once you see it, you'll notice what it is, so hopefully that will give you a hint about what the next one could be about. Thank you everyone for reading!

* * *

 _95\. Now_

* * *

When Maes peered around the living room, he could only sigh and shake his head at the sight before him. Roy had been living here for over a month and there were still cardboard boxes littering the place. He doubted that the other rooms would be any better. So far, Roy had managed to unpack his clothes, some stuff for the kitchen, a few household appliances, and five boxes of books.

Maes just barely managed to stop his eyes from rolling. Of course Roy would unpack all his books and put them up on bookcases, but not anything else that would suggest this place was more than a dormitory. The two of them had both been stationed in Eastern after coming home from Ishval, though there was talk that Maes might be transferred to Central in the coming year. For now though, he was content with his position here. He and Gracia would be getting married soon and things could return to some sort of normalcy.

Not that either he or Roy knew what normalcy was. Maes knew that he had been able to adjust a little easier to life at home, but then he didn't have the death toll that Roy had racked up in Ishval and he'd had someone to come home to. He could hide behind smiles and his glasses with his anonymity. Roy wasn't so lucky. Not only did people know him as the Flame Alchemist, but now he was the Hero of Ishval as well – or the Devil, depending on who was talking.

"Help yourself to whatever you want," Roy called from the bedroom, probably knowing full well that Maes was already rifling through his stuff.

Roy was a very private man, hiding what he could right out in the open, but when it came to Maes, things were different. He didn't expect privacy. Maes did have a nasty habit of prying when he could. When he glanced inside of Roy's fridge, Maes shook his head. Little more than condiments, a jar of peanut butter, and a bottle of whiskey sat inside. He pulled out the bottle and rifled through mostly empty cabinets until he found the glasses and poured two drinks.

Strolling back into the living room, Maes set one of the glasses of whiskey down and began to meander through the room. He picked through a few of the boxes, taking note of what Roy had apparently deemed not worthy of his attention for another month. There were some pictures, mostly of his time with Madam Christmas. He found one of Roy when he was young, probably around thirteen, with a young blonde girl that looked very familiar. In the dim lighting though, it was hard to tell. Damn the other man for not unpacking all his light fixtures.

All of the boxes had Roy's scribble on them, designating what they were, except for one sitting in the corner. Of course it caught Maes' attention the moment he realized the difference. He crouched down at the box, carefully peeling it open, and looked inside. There wasn't a lot in it, some more textbooks that Roy hadn't yet put up, a few more loose leaf pictures and notes that Maes wouldn't be able to understand, a few random knickknacks that looked nothing like what Roy would own, and then…

Sitting innocently under a few papers was a stuffed animal, a tiger to be precise, like something someone would win at a fair at one of those game booths. Maes dug it out of the box and examined the toy. It was clearly old, one of the ears slightly torn. He could tell by giving it a careful look over that it had been repaired with alchemy multiple times. This was not a toy that had been put on a kid's shelf and left untouched. Even stranger was that it was in an adult's possession – and Roy had nothing to do with children if he could manage it.

What truly caught Maes' keen eyes was how dirty it was. And it wasn't just any sort of dirty. It was sandy. He could feel the grainy bits of sand between his fingers as he held onto the stuffed animal. What was Roy doing with a sand-covered stuffed animal? The substance was so aggravating. He'd never seemed to be able to wash the sand out of his hair when he'd been stationed in Ishval and it had gotten everywhere, to the point where he'd tracked sand in his home and had to clean everything upon coming back to Eastern.

The realization struck Maes so suddenly that he nearly dropped his glass: this innocent-looking stuffed animal had been in Ishval.

Before Maes could think or do anything else, the stuffed tiger was ripped out of his grasp. He blinked up in surprise as Roy clutched the animal against his chest, glaring down at him heatedly. Roy's cheeks were flushed, but whether it was with anger or embarrassment, Maes couldn't tell. It was probably a mixture of both.

"What are you doing with a kid's toy from Ishval?" Maes asked as he slowly stood up.

"It's not from Ishval." Roy's voice was mostly flat, but Maes detected a slight strain in it. Judging from his white-knuckled grip on the stuffed animal, it was clearly taking a toll on the other man to keep from lashing out. At least he didn't have his gloves on. They'd already had one scare where Roy had woken up sleep walking from a night terror while wearing his ignition gloves.

Maes nodded his head, mostly to himself, as he picked up the other glass and held it out to Roy. He didn't take it though, not letting go of the toy. "Okay. Then why is it covered in sand?" He took a sip from his drink, but didn't look away from Roy. His friend loosened his grip on the stuffed animal and gazed down at it, turning it over in his hands. Without looking back up, he took the other glass of whiskey from Maes. "That stuff worked its way into every crease of my being. It's hell to get out."

"It's not from Ishval," Roy repeated quietly. The strain was gone, replaced by obvious pain instead. "It's… It's mine. From before Ishval, before the Academy. I took it with me." Though normally talk of Ishval brought on the urge to drink, he didn't make a move to take a sip of the whiskey in his hand. "It's stupid, isn't it? A grown ass man, and I took a stuffed animal with me to war. I don't know why…"

"It was something to remind you of home," Maes pointed out in a gentle tone. Most people might not have thought that someone like the great Flame Alchemist would need to be spoken with gently, but he did need it every now and then. He was still human, no matter what monstrous things he'd done just months before. "It brought you comfort. We all did that. I had my pictures and letters from Gracia. You had whatever that toy meant to you."

"Of course," Roy said as he returned the stuffed tiger to the box. "Comfort from home."

Maes did not miss the surprising bitterness in his friend's voice. For something that he'd taken with him to war to bring him comfort, it seemed to do the opposite effect now. Perhaps that was why it had been left in the box, still covered in sand and worse for wear. That toy had started out as something innocent and kind, but much like them, it had left Ishval sullied. There were so many questions that Maes wanted to ask, but for once in his life, he kept them to himself. He lived off of prying into people's lives and Roy always expected it from him, but this time, he knew that it would be best to bite his tongue.

Some things were best left unsaid and whatever that stuffed tiger meant to Roy was one of them.


	96. Tomorrow Too

**Author's Notes:** Ah, Halloween weekend straight messed up my posting scheduling and I've felt rather down about my writing after some comments came up that made me think about some of the mistakes I've made in my writing, and yeah, there's that. I'm not going to let that get me down though. This drabble is really important to me, as it's basically a step in this universe I accidentally created. It's the third part to **Drabble 95 ("Now")** and **Drabble 94 ("From Yesterday")** , but it also be considered a sequel to **Drabble 70 ("Giddiness")** and **Drabble 80 ("Categorize")**. Still able to be read on its own, of course. Thank you everyone for reading! We're coming down to the wire!

* * *

 _96\. Tomorrow, Too_

* * *

Not for the first time, Roy wished that his best friend was here. Maes would've known what to do. He always knew what to do when it came to things about this. War, risky subterfuges, plans of attack, putting on an act, alchemy, manipulations – those were all the kinds of things that Roy was skilled in. This right here was not his area of expertise. He tried to remember all the ramblings that Maes had gone on, but there had been a lot and alcohol had usually been involved and half the time he hadn't been listening. Now Roy was stuck cursing himself for his ineptitude.

Not that he hadn't read nearly every book there was to know on the subject, but that still wouldn't prepare him for what was to actually come. Everything was well and all in theory, but putting that crammed knowledge to practice was quite another. He tried to look at it like an alchemist – after all, he'd spent a lot of time with theoretic matter before moving onto practical trials when he'd been an apprentice – but if Riza found out that he was thinking like that, she'd probably wallop him upside the head.

Oh hell, he was starting to sound like Edward Elric. That girl of his, Winry Rockbell, would probably lend Riza a wrench to throw at him and, after what she'd been forced to go through, Riza might be inclined to use it.

When Roy slipped inside the hospital room, it was late, far past visiting hours. But it appeared as if his smile was still winning and the nurse on duty had let him pass. The lights were off, but the full moon gave an ethereal glow to the place. Tomorrow, Riza would most likely be discharged, as long as everything was still okay, but he simply couldn't stand waiting a few more hours before seeing them. He had to take the risk of her scolding him.

Riza was sound asleep in the bed. She'd been so exhausted this morning that it was a wonder she hadn't passed out before lunch, but she had been determined to stay awake. It had been a fight to get her to sleep even with her head bobbing up and down. Rebecca had been better at handling her than him. He hadn't known what to do. Ever since the moment she'd rang him up yesterday while he'd been at the office, he had been beside himself. He'd read so many books and all of that came to nothing when the time finally came.

It had even been raining. Useless, he'd been absolutely useless.

In the end, there hadn't been much for him to do but wait. He'd paced outside of the room, the words, _"Are you her husband?"_ echoing painfully in his mind, and nervously wringing his hands. It had even crossed his mind to bum a cigarette off of Havoc whenever the man stole away from a smoke break, but he didn't need Riza getting a whiff of smoke from him the moment he was finally allowed into the room.

He was grateful for the presence of his team flowing in and out of the hospital to check up on things. Apparently the whole ordeal could take a long time. Fuery had showed up with some sandwiches for them to eat. Roy had only been able to nibble at his until Rebecca snapped at him. Falman brought him a book, discreetly covered of course, on the subject matter, but he hadn't been able to focus long enough to read more than two pages. Breda challenged him to a game of chess, which he utterly crushed Roy in.

Even Fullmetal had called to get his two cenz in, to check on how things were progressing, and Roy had actually swallowed his pride and asked a few questions since this was the one thing that Edward had experience with already that Roy didn't. It was his conversation with the former alchemist actually that had prompted Roy to drive back to the hospital, his words bouncing around as haphazardly as he'd been as a State Alchemist.

 _"_ _Why the hell aren't you in there with her?"_ Edward had demanded. _"You're a bastard, but not to her."_

 _"_ _I'm not… Only relatives are allowed."_ Roy had let the implications set in, unable to say them exactly out loud. It wasn't easy on him to admit this. He'd always imagined that if something like this were to ever happen, certain things would come about. He would essentially step up to the plate and assume responsibility. He hadn't though. Not that he didn't want to, but he couldn't. And she hadn't let him.

The normally loud and abrasive Edward had been silent for a while. _"Who cares if you're not legally married? You're the damn father, aren't you?"_ That had gone without saying. Roy probably would have spontaneously combusted if he wasn't, truth be told. How embarrassing. _"It's going to be hard as hell keeping that under wraps once all this is said and done. People lie; genetics don't."_

Of course that smug little shit had been right. Roy may have been a soldier, but his brain had been filled with the same science that Edward's was. And he'd been doing a lot of research on that very thing after they'd found out too. Genetics didn't lie. Like most things with him, his genes were fairly dominant as well. Dark hair and dark eyes tended to cancel out light hair and light eyes. His father had been Amestrian, blonde hair and blue eyes, so Roy did carry some recessive genes. They could be lucky…

When Roy peered into the hospital bassinet, it was the same breathtaking sight as before. Lying there, swaddled in a hospital blanket decorated with ducks, was the tiniest baby boy that Roy had ever seen. Despite being newly born to this world, he already had a dusting of black hair on soft head that undoubtedly become an unruly mop in the coming year. He was fast asleep on his back, his pudgy arms and legs stretched out, but behind his tiny eyelids Roy knew were dark eyes.

Judging from the one baby picture his aunt had been able to save from his parents', his son was a mirror image of him, right to the tip of his nose.

"Hey, kiddo," Roy breathed. His free hand trembled at his side. It had been a long time since they'd done that, but it had been difficult to stop them from shaking on and off since yesterday. The old aches of his stab wounds seemed to come back with a vengeance and he'd been forced to use his alchemy to soothe them, afraid that he would get cramps and not be able to properly hold the baby.

Whether the nurses and doctor had known who they were handing the baby to when they had all stepped in to see Riza after it was done, Roy wasn't for sure. He hadn't been able to think much of anything else besides a mixture of fear and pure elation. He'd held kids before – Elicia and Fullmetal's kids were a cinch and all loved him despite Edward's protests – but this had been completely different. The urge to pick the baby up now was strong, but he was terrified of waking the little one up as well.

"Roy?" The soft voice behind him almost startled him, but when he turned around, he saw Riza sitting up in the bed and rubbing at her eyes. "What are you doing here? It's nearly three in the morning."

A surge of warmth spread throughout Roy's chest. She'd said his name. Even now, after all this, she made it a habit of keeping with formalities. They'd created a life together, and she still very rarely called him by anything other than his titles. Old habits die hard, especially when they weren't sure what to do.

"I kept thinking… I kept thinking that I should be here, with you" – his eyes swept to the sleeping baby – "with him. It's my place. And I want to be here."

When he looked back towards her, she was getting out of bed. Slowly, like she was still in pain, but when he moved towards her, Riza waved him away and smiled at him. "Do you think that's wise?"

"I'm not sure if 'wise' is in the picture anymore," Roy pointed out, "certainly not appropriate."

He reached out to her once she was close to him and pulled her into his arms. She was soft, but he noted the distinct lack of her once swollen belly as she pressed herself into him more. She'd hated being so out of shape and had muttered complaints about it under her breath, but he'd always found himself amazed by the swell of her belly and the little movements that he could see under her skin.

Roy pressed his face against the top of her head. "I should've been in here with you the whole time, holding your hand, helping you through this. Every time I heard you scream, I thought about bursting into the room. I've been very selfish about this whole thing."

Riza sighed. "We both agreed that it was the best decision. Besides, everything turned out alright."

"I still regret it." Roy kissed her on her crown. She hummed against him.

It was foolish of him. The moment he'd found out, he should've done what was right for her. He'd wanted to, but she had been the one to shake her head. It wasn't the promise they'd made to each other. There was still so much that they needed to do, and she couldn't do it in that position. Things were undoubtedly complicated now. He wondered if they'd be forced apart despite all their careful planning. This miracle could be a mark against both of their records and keep them from everything. He'd promised her that they would make things right; they had sold their right to happiness a long time ago.

Honestly, he was afraid that she would never forgive him if he failed her again, no matter who laid asleep in the hospital bassinet next to them.

"Stop thinking," Riza mumbled tiredly into his chest. "Just for tonight, please stop."

Roy chuckled and moved his arms around her to squeeze her gently. "As you wish."

At the motion, Riza finally seemed to notice that Roy wasn't technically holding her with two hands and that there was something soft pressing into her back. She wiggled about so that she could pull herself out of his grip and then examined what he was holding in one of his hands. "What've you got there?"

With a rather shy grin on his face, Roy held his hands up. "You don't remember this?"

Wonder lit up Riza's face in a way that reminded him so very much of the look on her face when he'd walked into the hospital room and she was holding their son in her arms. This time though, there was remembrance on her face as she took the stuffed animal from his hands. It was nearly twenty years-old and had suffered a lot of tribulations. The orange and black stripes were somewhat faded and despite the obvious signs of alchemic use in order to be repaired the left ear was still torn, but it was still very much a stuffed tiger.

"From the festival when we were teenagers?" Riza asked in awe. Roy simply nodded his head, still grinning shyly at her. "You kept it all this time?"

"I told you," Roy said, "I'd cherish it until the end of my days."

It was dark, but the moon provided just enough light for him to see a blush cross her face. "I didn't think… I figured you had thrown it away by now."

Roy took the stuffed animal from her and turned it around in his hands. "This? Never. I went through my ups and downs with it. I took it to the Academy with me, hid it in my closet so nobody would find it. And then to Ishval… I put it under my cot. When things became too much, I'd reach for it and clutch it against my chest as I tried to breathe." He swept his hands over the toy. It wasn't nearly as soft as it had once been since he'd had to thoroughly wash it, but at least it was clean now. "I nearly burned it when you found me in Ishval. I just… I felt like all my hopes and dreams had been shattered and it was just a mocking reminder. I probably would've tried to hide from it forever if Maes hadn't found it in Eastern."

He had done what he could to put the silly toy out of his mind, but then Maes had dragged it out of that damn box and all the floodgates had come open. Roy had finished nearly a fifth of whiskey on his own that night while staring at the innocent stuffed tiger, torn between the desire to burn it and keep it safe. In the end, he'd placed it back in the box and packed it away, along with any feelings he had for his newly appointed adjutant. There it had stayed until he'd been transferred to Central following Maes' murder. He had found it while unpacking and this time, instead of hiding from it, he'd placed it in an on a shelf in the spare bedroom of his apartment, allowing Elicia to play with it whenever she came over. Throughout all his other moves, to Ishval and back to Central, he had kept the stuffed tiger with him.

In his heart, no matter how callous and arrogant he was, Roy was one sentimental bastard.

Riza laid a hand on his arm. "Its ear…"

"A simple fix nowadays," Roy told her, moving to set the toy on the empty bed. He pressed his hands together, envisioning the transmutation circle, and then laid them on the toy. Blue light crackled around the object for a brief moment, making the room glow and their eyes shine. When it died down, Roy picked up the toy and showed it to her. The colors were still worn, but the torn ear was as good as new.

"I forget sometimes," Riza said quietly.

"Truth may have briefly taken my vision, but I can now easily repair stuffed animals," Roy replied teasingly. He thought though that, after having seen Truth and his eyesight stolen, he had never seen more clearly before. The woman before him was all the truth he needed and the child sleeping next to them his light. "I thought that… Well, it's given me a lot throughout these years. Maybe…maybe it's time to pass it on."

The warmth in Riza's eyes was almost more than he could bear. She smiled at him and nodded her head. Roy looked at the stuffed animal once more. It was so simple and small, such a cheap thing, but he swore that he could feel everything that it meant to him. A chilly fall night where they'd been drunk on their innocence and warmth together, exhausted days that reminded him of a girl that was his home, dusty unforgiving nights filled with fire and blood and sand and the hope that things would be good again, an empty and dark apartment drowned by bitter longings and a past he could not grasp, a shaky future filled with light and dreams and so much life that it seemed to make everything else pale in comparison.

Roy gently set the stuffed tiger next to his son. The two of them watched as the baby moved slightly, just enough to brush his face against the fur, and then stilled again. He didn't know what the morning held for them, but in this moment, he didn't care. No matter what, he knew in his heart that this was meant to be. It would have always come to this, him and her, this little bundle of life, always together. Nothing could have prevented it and he had fought tooth and nail with anything that had tried.


	97. If I Die

**Author's Notes:** Thank you everyone for reading and for the follows! This was a really interesting one to write, but you all probably know by now that I'm a sucker for writing about Havoc and Riza's friendship.

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 _97\. "If I die"_

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When the phone rang, it took everything in Riza's power to not leap at it. She had to force her body to relax and slowly pick up the phone, but her hands were almost shaking by the time she pressed it against her ear. It was a strange feeling. Her hands had never shaken before; the moment she picked up a rifle and her sight fell on the first person she killed, they had been stilled. Now though, she felt like her entire body was just shy of falling completely apart and she didn't know what to do. She was a tight coil, barely keeping it together, and she hated that even more.

It had been two days since she'd last seen him, waving at her after he dropped her off at her apartment, and only one day since she'd found Breda bleeding and unconscious from a blow to the head and a note stuck in a puddle of blood in place of Roy.

The phone call could've been anyone, but Riza knew in her heart that it wasn't. This was the first contact that had been made since Roy's kidnapping. They should've gone to the higher ups, but the note had been explicit about the fact that they would kill him on the spot if word got out. Falman had been able to stall and cancel any meetings by explaining to people that Roy had called in sick while the rest of them got to work on trying to find their missing commanding officer.

Riza didn't chew on her nails like Fuery, didn't chain smoke like Havoc, didn't pick at her food like Breda, or tap of her feet like Falman. She was still and silent, a mostly blank expression on her face. And yet the rest of the men stayed a little away from her, as if she was radiating pure heat from anger and despair, like she was a gun about to go off.

"Yes?" Riza said into the receiver. She sounded remarkably calm, which surprised even her. Fuery immediately got to work on tracing the call, but there was only so much he could do with his limited resources. If they'd been able to sneak more equipment from Investigations, it would've been easier. Still, she trusted him.

"Have you spoken to anyone about our arrangement?" a gravelly male voice on the other ended questioned.

"Of course not." Riza counted the ways she could pick apart this man. A bullet to the kneecap would be a good start. For once, she didn't want to make it quick. "What do you want? I'd like for this to end as quickly as possible and I'm not up for playing games."

The man chuckled. "Good, neither am I." He had a strange accent. Aurego, maybe? He didn't sound like he was from Amestris. Falman would know more. They were recording the call, so she'd have him listen to it after to see if he had any ideas. "We know he is an important man. State Alchemists are a prized commodity, but a General as well? People will pay good money for him."

Roy had made a lot of enemies in his time. Being the Hero of Ishval was a double edged sword and he had stepped on quite a few people to make his way to the top, not to mention all the work they'd done. Falman was currently flipping through the dossier of his enemies that they'd compiled over the years.

"I'm sure we could pay better," Riza responded through gritted teeth.

"You think? I did not think that the military negotiated with kidnappers or terrorists."

"We didn't go to anyone else, so as far as the military is concerned, they aren't negotiating with anyone." Riza took a deep breath. Of course, if anyone were to find out, they could be in serious trouble, court marshaled even. She could already hear Roy berating them for doing this, putting their careers and lives at risk for him. He would never abandon someone, but heaven forbid they not abandon him. "Tell me what exactly what you want."

"You know what people would pay for more than their chance to get back at the great Flame Alchemist?" the man asked her. Riza waited with baited breath, but she knew the answer. "His secrets, his knowledge. People would like to crack open his head for more than just blood. That is priceless. Do you think it is worth his life?"

Riza closed her eyes. She knew what Roy would say. No, it wasn't. And the truth was that he didn't have all the knowledge anyways. They could get most of the information out of him if he wanted to give it to them, but they would need something else in order to unravel the entire secrets to master flame alchemy – or rather, someone else. They would need her to complete the puzzle. Both of them would die before they allowed that to happen.

"We have done what we could to persuade him to talk," the kidnapper mused, "but so far, he has proven to be unwilling and rude. Do not worry. We will cure him of that."

Riza's grip on the phone was so tight that her fingers were beginning to ache. If she gripped it any further, her hand would begin to shake no matter what she did. "I need to speak with the General. I need proof that he is alive before we can take the negotiations any further."

"You can take me on my word that he is still alive," the man dismissed. "A little broken, I am afraid, but he is alive nonetheless."

"I need to speak with him!" Riza snapped. She bit down on her tongue and winced, though not at the pain. She had to remain calm. Losing her temper to this man would only make things worse. He could become even more difficult. He could hurt Roy even more. Already she was pictured him bruised and bloody and that was enough to get her blood to boil. Calm, at ease, like she was staring down a scope, poised and at the ready. "Or you can take your chances at getting what you want to hell. I'm not making any promises until I'm given proof of life. I won't be jerked around."

Maddeningly, the man laughed again. "You have spirit. Perhaps we should have taken you instead. Maybe you would have been more fun than the General. Okay, I will do this for you. It will hopefully give you and your dear commanding officer more incentive to cooperate."

The silence that fell on the line almost made her scream, but she kept it in. When she looked at Fuery questioningly, he held up five fingers, signaling that he needed five more minutes to make the trace. Damn them for having to deal with such outdated technology. Her eyes swept the room and locked onto Havoc, who gave her a supportive nod. She was still looking at him when there was noise on the other end of the phone.

"Captain, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

Riza's heart leaped into her throat. That was a voice she recognized. She reached up with her free hand to hold the phone with both hands, lest she dropped it. Roy's voice sounded a little slurred, like he was either drunk or tired, and thick as well, like he had a mouth full of something. He probably had some sort of injury to his jaw or maybe he'd bit down on his tongue too hard and caused it to swell up. Despite that, he continued to speak in a cavalier manner, as if he hadn't been kidnapped and tortured for information.

"Sir," Riza managed, "how badly are you injured?"

"I can't complain," Roy told her. "I've still got all my limbs. I was hurting worse after my date with Jessica."

Normally, when he was like this, she wanted nothing more than to smack him upside the head with a book, but right now, she would've settled for just touching him. That coiled feeling in her gut got even tighter. If she didn't release it soon, she was going to explode, but she knew that it could only be eased by seeing him. Hearing him had been both a blessing and a curse. The more dismissive he was about his situation, the worse it was. He didn't want her worrying.

It didn't work. She only worried more.

"Hawkeye," Roy suddenly said, "you know what they're asking."

"I do, sir," Riza replied in a quiet voice.

"Then you know it can't be done." Roy did not sound defeated. In fact, he sounded quite the opposite, so resolute in his decision that it broke her heart. "There can be no more Flame Alchemists. I think one devil is enough."

But he wasn't a devil, not to her. Maybe he wasn't a hero either, but he was all she needed. "General–" The title stuck in her throat, and her voice actually cracked. She closed her eyes again. "We can find another way."

"No," Roy told her firmly. He made it sound so simple, like he was giving a command, like he wasn't facing his death. How could he sound so determined about this? "If I am to be killed to keep these secrets, then so be it. I made a promise that I would take flame alchemy with me to my grave."

"You haven't fulfilled your other promises yet," Riza reminded him, trying her damndest to keep her voice level. It was like something in her had to tremble if not her hands.

She could hear Roy grimacing on the other end. "You'll have to find a way to forgive me for that and live on."

When he went silent again, Riza could do little else but listen to his breathing. It sounded labored. She herself could barely breathe at all. It was like there was a gun pressed to the back of her head and a finger on the trigger. Even though he was the one kidnapped, she felt like she was right there with him, unable to move, unable to escape this horror.

"Captain," Roy began, his voice no longer steady. It was softer, more vulnerable. Despite everything, she felt her eyes begin to burn. It was the voice he only used when they were alone, the voice only meant for her. If he was speaking to her like this, it could only mean one thing. "If I die–"

"Don't," Riza interrupted heatedly, like she was angry with him for even suggesting such a thing in the first place. She wanted to smack him, she wanted him in her arms, she wanted him safe, with her. "Don't say things like that, sir. We're going to find you."

"I would regret it if I didn't say some things," Roy continued in that wavering tone. She had to press a hand against her mouth to stifle a whimper. He was so determined to follow through with his promise. He wouldn't tell his kidnappers anything. "If I died without telling you–"

"Please," Riza damn near begged. "Don't."

"Oh," Roy sighed, and she could hear the calm smile on his voice, could picture him closing his eyes and smiling in understanding as clear as day. "You already know."

She couldn't stop herself. "Ro–"

"I think that is quite enough," the kidnapper's voice cut in, having taken away the phone from him. "You have my demands. Meet them by midnight, or your precious General is dead."

And then the line went dead.

Riza stared down at the phone for a few seconds in complete silence. It looked so innocent in her hands. It didn't look like she had just heard her death on the other end. Her hands began to shake violently and hot tears pooled in her eyes as she looked at the phone.

 _If I died without telling you–_

Letting out a gritted scream, Riza slammed the phone down so hard that it broke and then threw her hands to her mouth to keep from crying out. By now, the shaking had worked its way from her hands and throughout her entire body. She nearly doubled over, like an attempt to keep herself from coming apart at the seams, but only seeing Roy would've been able to stop this. She could feel pieces of her breaking apart, despair seeping into her bones and rage flaring in her blood. That hot coil sprung into action as tears slipped out of her eyes and dripped onto the floor no matter how hard she squeezed her eyes shut.

 _You already know._

When she felt arms envelop her, Riza jerked to push them away from her, but they only managed to grip her tighter. She yelled wordlessly, if only to keep herself from crying, and struggled furiously, but they never let go of her. Havoc calling out, "Riza!" whisked all the fight out of her and she sucked in a gasp of air. It had been a long time since he'd called her by her first name. Out of everyone on the team, besides Roy, she was closest to Havoc, but he always refrained from saying her name, if only out of respect, and never in front of the others.

Hearing him say it now startled her, but perhaps it was the pleading tone in his voice that stunned her into stilling even more so.

Taking a few shuddering breaths, Riza fell limp in his arms. She could barely hear Havoc's murmurs, "It's going to be okay, we're going to find him, he's going to be safe, it's going to be okay," over the blood thumping in her ears. She straightened up and leaned back against him, gripping his arms to the point where she might leave bruises, like she could draw strength from him.

She hated for them to see her like this. The team had never seen her break down in such a way. She hadn't done this in years, not since Lust told her that she'd killed Roy and Havoc. She didn't feel humiliated though. She had to keep the fury boiling inside of her because without that she would become a hollow and broken shell. He'd told her not to give up on herself then, and she couldn't do it now. But for just this one moment, she let her emotions get the best of her. It was either explode now or shatter later.

"We're going to find him," Havoc repeated.

The other men stood further back. Perhaps they'd been startled by her outburst and Havoc alone had braved the waters to reach her. She could not be more grateful to him. She'd felt herself spiraling out of control, ready to pick up her weapons and brutally hunt down the men that had taken Roy, but Havoc centered her, brought her back to reality.

"Y-yes," Riza stammered. "Of course."

Slowly, his arms pulled away from her. She nodded her head, mainly to herself, and wiped at her eyes. When she turned around to face him, he straightened up. She didn't need to say it out loud for him to know that she was thanking him for what he'd done. He nodded back to her.

Riza took another breath. "Fuery?"

The younger officer jerked off his headset. He'd been listening in on the conversation while taping it and trying to trace it, and she could tell that he'd understood what had been said by the shiny film of tears in his eyes. Still though, she felt herself begin to shake again when Fuery shook his head. "All I could get was that the call was local. They're still in Central."

Closing her eyes so that she could concentrate, Riza tried to look back on the conversation past the words. "I heard a train. It sounded close." She frowned. "And he mentioned Jessica. That's one of his sisters. She… She works at a shoe store as her cover to pass along information." She opened her eyes. "I want a schedule for all the trains traveling to and from Central station right now. Cross reference them with anything that has to do with shoes. I don't know. It's a long shot and it sounds stupid, but it's all we've got."

"Yes, ma'am!" the men chanted in unison.

Riza grimaced when she glanced back. "And we're going to need another phone installed right away."

While Breda left the room to get the schedule for departing and arriving trains, Falman found a map of Central and immediately began to circle places that were connected with shoes. It sounded so ridiculous the more she thought about it, but that was the only Jessica that both of them knew and she didn't know why else he would bring her up if not to give her a hint. Fuery ducked out so that he could find another phone, although there was a chance that he'd come back empty-handed without proper paperwork. Of course, it would be paperwork.

Havoc stepped up to her and put a hand on her shoulder. "Hey, you were good on there. We'll figure out his location and we'll get him back."

Riza looked up at him. "Jean, if we don't–"

"You wouldn't stand for that kind of talk from the boss," Havoc interrupted her, "so I won't take it from you."

People sometimes thought that he was an idiot and he liked to downplay himself a lot, but Riza would have trusted Havoc with her life every time. He had her back. It had honestly hurt her when he'd been injured and forced to leave the military. She didn't know if she would've been able to handle this without him.

A thought occurred to her. Riza bit her lip. " _When_ we find where they're holding him, I'm going to need you to take point."

"You trust me with that?" Havoc asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I don't trust myself with it," Riza told him grimly.

Havoc sighed, but then nodded his head. He knew what she meant. There was a possibility she would lose control over this. The moment she found the men responsible for kidnapping Roy and hurting him, she didn't know if she could keep herself from wanting to make them pay. She hoped she could.

Oh, you already know.

All she wanted to do was howl, but instead Riza took a deep breath and focused on the task. They would find Roy and they were going to save him. They had to – she had to. There were no other options available. If she couldn't do that, then she didn't know what else there was left for her to do.


	98. After the Rain

**Author's Notes:** If you can recall **Drabble 87 ("Memories")** , this is a drabble about the memory that Roy talked about in order to keep Riza conscious. Thank you everyone so much for the reviews! They made my day.

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 _98\. After the Rain_

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When lightning flashed in the dark sky outside and a loud clap of thunder boomed, the lights flickered on the inside. Roy glanced towards the lamp that he was using to study with, watching as it blinked a few more times before returning back to normal. One glance at Riza told him that she hadn't even seemed to notice. How she could remain so thoroughly absorbed in her readings during an epic storm like this, he couldn't be sure. It was probably only through pure obstinacy. A little rain wasn't going to keep her down.

It had, however, done its work on Roy. His concentration was completely shot. While most people were either nervous of storms or in awe of them, he found himself to be rather indifferent. The most they did was make him want to stay in bed and curl up under his blankets when he woke up to find it raining. This storm was a wild one though. While it wasn't raining too hard, the lightning and following thunder snagged his attention away from his studies almost every single time. It was like something was ringing a bell in his head.

Another flash of lightning, but this time, when the thunder cracked loudly, the entire house seemed to shake, as if maybe the lightning had struck in the backyard. Their own source of light shut down almost immediately after that, enveloping them in the dark. Riza didn't gasp in surprise at the sudden lack of light, but instead made a resigned sigh. Roy blinked until his eyes adjusted and he watched from his seat as Riza shuffled around in the dark for a few seconds.

A tiny burst of flame caught his eyes as Riza struck a match to life and began to light a few candles. It was only when she returned back to her seat did Roy realize what she was doing: she was _still_ studying.

He made a protesting grunt. "You can't be serious."

"I'd advise against not quitting your studying," Riza responded without looking up from her notes. "Isn't Father going to be testing you soon?"

Master Hawkeye would be doing that next week, but Roy was already confident that he'd pass. Yeah, he wanted to study and practice more to make certain of it, but it was a bit ridiculous to do that now. "The electricity is out."

"And yet I can still see," Riza pointed out dryly.

"You'll strain your eyes if you keep that up."

"You'll strain your brain if you keep trying to come up with excuses."

Roy leaned back in his seat and stared her down. A few years ago, Riza never would've argued with him like this, preferring to be meek and even deferential. She'd grown into her confidence though a little more each year. He had been a terrible influence on her. It kind of made him feel a spark of pride. Still, combine that with her already stubborn nature and she'd insist on studying for an hour longer than she originally planned. The only thing left for him to do was get under her skin and distract her.

And that was perhaps one of Roy's greatest strengths.

He started out simple, shifting around in his seat and making noise. Gradually distracting her was key; otherwise she would catch on and do everything in her power to ignore him out of spite. Once he noticed her starting to become more fidgety, he put his notes to the side and began to wander around the room, picking at different books lined on the bookshelf and then putting them back. The longer he stayed on his feet, the more he could feel her eyes drifting up to him. As he moved around the room, he hummed under his breath, watching as Riza slowly started to nod her head along with him and he knew that he had her in the bag.

"You're doing this on purpose," Riza piped up irritably.

Roy turned to face her and gave her his most innocent look. "Doing what? Trying to find something to read?"

"Distracting me," Riza ground out.

"I would _never_ ," Roy said seriously.

They stared each other down for a few seconds, Roy with wide, innocent eyes and Riza with a narrowed glare. But then a grin fought its way onto his face and Riza let out a frustrated huff, finally giving way to her distraction by actually throwing a book at him. Roy ducked and laughed, even as the pages fluttered in the air. What he didn't expect was for Riza to bolt out of her seat, and he took off out of the room with her hot on his heels. It was in the middle of the night and Master Hawkeye was either deep in his work or passed out asleep, but that didn't stop the two of them from running through the dark house, trying not to crash into things or stumbling around stupidly.

When Roy darted outside, the door smacking against the wall just as a clap of thunder resounded in the air, Riza didn't hesitate to follow him outside. It was raining a little more than he expected, but it wasn't pouring. Each drop of water seemed almost warm as they splashed across his body. It was still warm for a late spring night despite the rain. He ran through the rain and laughed more as each step he took splashed in the mud, slippery and even more haphazard than before.

"Get back inside right now!" Riza shouted after him. "You're going to catch a cold if you keep this up!"

While it was true that he caught colds easier than she did, Roy decided to ignore her this time. It was just too much fun to watch as she staggered about, waving her arms in the air, trampling in the mud. He probably looked like a drowned rat at this point, his clothes sticking to his skin and his hair pressed flat against his head with his bangs in his eyes, but that didn't bother him.

"Roy!" Riza yelled. "This is not fu— _Oh_!"

There was a loud splattering sound behind him. Roy finally came to a halt, skidding in the soggy dirt, and turned to find that Riza had fallen in what looked like the largest mud puddle in Amestris. His first reaction was to laugh and make a teasing remark, but when she didn't get up right away, he swallowed the joke.

"Riza?" Roy walked over to her. She was sitting in the mud, like it wasn't cold or anything, and wearing a pained expression as she rubbed at her ankle. Oh, great. He had dragged her out here and she'd gotten hurt. If he was lucky, she wouldn't talk to him for a few days. If he wasn't, then there was a chance that he was going to get the licking of a lifetime from her father. Trying not to wince at his own stupidity, he reached out to help her up. "Are you oka—?"

The moment Riza took hold of his outstretched hand, she jerked on it hard and brought Roy crashing down into the mud puddle with her. He fell face first and then began to sputter as he twisted around. When he finally came to the realization that she had actually tricked him and dragged him in the dirt with her, he paused in his struggle and sat in the mud while it rained. This time, it was Riza's turn to laugh and she did so without abandon.

"You little sneak," Roy exclaimed, though not with any anger. He was honestly surprised. "I was worried about you! I thought you were hurt." Riza grinned at him so cheekily that it surprised him even further. That was his move. "Oh, it's on!"

He launched himself at her. She tried to move away from him, giggling despite the situation, and then let out a laughing shout when he got a hold of her. Because of the mud though, she seemed to slip right through his fingers as she squirmed about. The two of them rolled around in the mud like two piglets, laughing as they play fought. She threw a handful of mud at him and tried to get up, but slipped and fell again. Normally, Roy would have been aghast that he was covered in dirt from head to toe. Right now though, all he cared about was Riza's laughter and getting back at her.

They rolled around some more until finally Roy managed to pin Riza down in the mud. He smirked down at her. "I win." They were both dirty as hell. Literally lying in the puddle, the mud seeped into her hair and clothes, a streak covering her face. She was barely recognizable, if only for the smile on her face. When lightning flashed around them, it glowed in her eyes, the whole thing giving her an unearthly look. Both of them were panting heavily, soaked to their bones from the rain and mud. Water dripped from his hair and onto her face as he stared down at her.

Quite suddenly, Roy realized that they'd never been in a position like this before, so physical with one another, and his face began to burn underneath the mud mask he was now wearing.

Practically jumping off of her, Roy got to his feet and cleared his throat. Riza was no longer smiling either, as if she had come to the same conclusion as him. Luckily for both of them the mud was hiding any blushing. "We should get back inside."

"Yes, we don't want to get sick," Riza said almost meekly. "This is going to be difficult to clean up." She sat up and looked down at herself. Their clothes were probably ruined or at the very least it was going to take multiple washes. The rain was doing what it could to wash them off, but there was only so much it could do for the mud and grass stains. "We can't just traipse inside covered like this."

"We'll figure something out." Most likely they'd probably just have to stand on the porch and let the rain rinse them a little more and then strip down. That didn't bother him in the slightest, but it would have Riza completely bent out of shape, stammering and flushing horribly. It'd be kind of funny.

When she went to stand up next to him, Riza staggered and fell back to her knees. She tried to hide it, but he still managed to catch the wince on her face. She had actually hurt herself when she'd fallen down. He had thought that maybe she was just playing in order to trick him. She looked rather embarrassed, but then tilted her head up proudly as she stood up again. He didn't miss the second wince on her face when she tried to put pressure on her left foot.

Roy stepped forward. "Can I–?"

"I'm fine, really."

"Let me–"

"Honestly, I'm okay."

"Riza." He gave her a flat look. The stubborn expression on her face faded as she dropped her gaze and nodded her head, giving him permission to help her.

Roy swept his hands under her and easily pulled her into his arms. She was slippery from the mud, making him worry that he might drop her, but she was quite light, being a lot smaller than him. Either that or his time working out was finally starting to pay off. She wrapped an arm around his neck to hold onto him as he carried her back towards the front of the house. It was a little difficult, carrying her through the rain while walking on the soggy ground, but he didn't complain. She determinedly did not look him in the face, biting her lip and staring at the storm clouds, which only made him grin.

She was always so cute when she was embarrassed.

Upon reaching the porch, he gently put her back on her feet. She murmured a small thank you. Now they had to figure out how to not track in a bunch of mud into the house. Roy was patient and silent as he waited for Riza to realize what he'd already figured out that they'd have to do. When she finally did, he watched as a flitter of emotions crossed her face, embarrassment finding her all over again. He didn't need the lightning to light up the sky again for him to know that she was blushing to the roots of her hair.

It took some time, a bunch of awkward maneuvering, and averted eyes, but eventually they managed to get into the house without making too much of a mess, leaving the dirtiest of their clothes on the porch in a heap. "You can take a bath first," Roy told her, swiping a bit of mud off her face. "You've got some dirt on your nose." She smacked his hand away from her, but a smile crossed her face before she darted up the stairs.

While she cleaned up, Roy locked himself up in his bedroom, stripping out of the rest of his clothes so that he could rub off some of the dirt and dry off with a towel.

The image of Riza underneath him, covered with mud and her clothes sticking to her admittedly changing frame, was going to be difficult to get out of his head. Roy rubbed the towel roughly over his head, but that didn't seem to do anything for him. She'd been so carefree. It wasn't often that she let herself go like that. It had been…nice. A knock on his door a little later told him that she was out of the bath. By the time he opened the door, she was already gone, her bedroom door closed. He showered slowly in the candlelight, making sure that all the mud was gone. It took some time getting it out of his hair.

What a mess they'd made together.

When he was done and changed into some warmer clothes, Roy tiptoed over to Riza's bedroom. He hesitated to knock on the door, suddenly unsure of himself for some reason, but when he heard a sneeze, he curiously raised an eyebrow and knocked. "You okay in there?"

There was some shuffling and then the door opened. Riza peeked outside. Her hair was sticking up in ridiculous ways, still wet from the shower. It was kind of adorable to be honest. The tip of her nose was a little red too. She sniffed and nodded her head. "Yeah, I'm good."

"Not getting a cold from the rain, are you?" Roy asked, a little smirk appearing on his face.

"I better not be," Riza said, "or it'll be your fault."

"I believe you're the one that dragged me down in the mud to wrestle," Roy pointed out. Riza went to glare at him again, but her threatening gaze was interrupted by another pitiful-sounding sneeze. He chuckled and leaned against the threshold. "Looks like someone should've followed their own advice."

Riza huffed. "I'm not getting sick."

"I can't believe you're going to get brought down by a little rain," Roy teased. He did feel bad though, as she looked up at him with petulant eyes. If she did get sick from their goofing off in the rain, it was kind of his fault since he'd ran out there and hadn't listened to her when she tried to tell him to come back inside. And then there was the fact that she'd fallen in the mud and sprained her ankle while chasing him. The house shook again when thunder rumbled. "If you need anything though…"

"What? Are you going to play nurse if I get sick?"

Roy crossed his arms across his chest. "You took care of me last time I was sick."

Riza rolled her eyes. "You barely had a fever and complained that you were dying."

Well, she wasn't wrong. Roy did have a flare for the dramatics whenever he got the slightest bit sick. When he was a child, if he had even a tiny fever, he wouldn't get out of bed and would refuse to go to school. Years later, he wasn't that much better. He gave her a sheepish grin as she sniffed and rubbed at her nose. All he'd wanted to do was distract her from studying and he'd managed to give her a cold. Now she was really going to be distracted. She did somehow look cute though with her pink nose. That he could admit.


	99. Welcome Home

**Author's Notes:** Thank you everyone for reading! We're almost there! This is the follow-up/conclusion to **Drabble 97 ("If I die")**. I really enjoyed writing this one.

* * *

 _99\. "Welcome home"_

* * *

The first thing that Roy noticed upon coming to was all the aches. It felt as if he'd been hit by a train or at the very least gotten into an all out fight with Fullmetal. But then he remembered that the punk couldn't do alchemy at more, and then he remembered that he hadn't been hit by a train.

He'd been kidnapped and tortured. Ah, far less amusing then.

Roy groaned as his eyes fluttered open, taking note of the familiar bright white of a hospital room. He went to reach up to press a hand over his eyes and rub his forehead when a sharp pain took him off guard. His eyes jerked open at that and he looked down to find his left hand bandaged up and in a cast all the way up to his elbow. Vague memories of having his wrist broken came back to him and he winced. That had been almost as painful as when Bradley had stabbed him in the hands.

"Welcome home, Chief."

Swinging his eyes over to his left, Roy caught sight of Havoc leaning back in a chair, legs propped up on the railing of the hospital bed. The other man looked a little more rumpled than usual, his hair dull and a mess, his civilian clothes out of sort, not to mention the black eye he was now sporting. He hadn't come out of the rescue mission untouched, it seemed. There was a magazine in his lap and a toothpick hanging out of the side of his mouth. Apparently the nurses had succeeded in confiscating his cigarettes from him this time around, even though he'd been injured himself.

"Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes?" Roy grumbled, turning his head to look at the ceiling and then closing his eyes again. Not that he didn't appreciate the ability to see his First Lieutenant – he did. The fact that he was alive and conscious and lying in a room with Havoc as company was enough to settle Roy's foggy mind. He was safe. A little worse for wear, but safe and recuperating. The idea that he might wake up again, tied up painfully to a chair, bleeding and broken, awaiting the pain that would undoubtedly come when he didn't answer questions, was almost too much to bear.

Havoc just wasn't the one person in the world that Roy needed to see right now.

 _Please. Don't._

Those words, that broken voice, had been a torture in itself. It was like his kidnappers had known that allowing him to talk to her would cut him worse than any knife they could use.

Roy had gone terribly silent after that, locked in a desolate place in his mind. He remembered what she had told him in the catacombs under Central with her gun pointed at him – that she wouldn't go on to life a carefree life all on her own. Not without him. He'd told her to forgive him and live on when they'd been on the phone, but he hadn't been sure that she would listen to him. He could only hope that the others would help her, but the fear that his death might activate or break something in her had scared him more than dying.

"She's in the cafeteria right now with Breda," Havoc piped up, answering the question that Roy couldn't ask. "It's been hell trying to get her to leave your side, but I convinced her take a break."

"Yes, right then," Roy replied, swallowing down the lump in his throat. He could imagine that she had insisted on watching over him, in case anyone else came after him while he was in such a vulnerable state. To be honest, he didn't know what the situation was right now, considering he wasn't even for certain how long he'd been out, but he'd get the details later. Right now, small comforts were all he wanted. He was terribly selfish in that way.

Havoc dropped his legs down and leaned forward in his seat, putting the magazine to the side. "Permission to speak freely, sir?"

Roy waved his relatively undamaged hand in the air. "Of course. Neither of us is in shape to be at work."

"Don't ever do that again," Havoc told him.

Despite the gravity of his words and the past situation, Roy scoffed. "Do what? Get kidnapped? It's not like I had much of a choice in the matter."

"I'm serious, Mustang," Havoc continued. And to his credit, the man did look very serious. There was a tired expression on his face that Roy hadn't seen on Havoc since he found out that he was paralyzed by Lust, but it was the haunted look in his eyes that startled Roy the most. Roy didn't think it had to do with the terrible state that they had found him in either. "I never want to see her like that again. Maybe you've seen her react in such a way before, but I…I haven't. I've never seen her so _unhinged_. It honest to god scared me."

Roy took a deep breath. He'd only seen her like that twice, but in two different ways. There had been in Ishval, when she'd asked him to burn the secrets of flame alchemy on her back. It had been so subtle, but he had told himself that he had never seen a more broken person before. She hadn't cried or screamed or begged. She had smiled, so exhausted and relieved, so full of pain and disillusionment. And then there had been that time in the Fifth Laboratory, when she had believed that Lust had killed him and Havoc. She'd screamed and sobbed and let out all her rage and grief – and then she'd just…given up, all her will to live extinguished like a flame.

He could only imagine what Havoc and the rest of the team had witnessed after their brief phone call had ended. If it was anything like what he had seen, it had probably shaken them to their core. Riza did whatever she could to not allow her emotions to get the best of her, but at the end of the day, she was human. She could only hold so much in before she cracked, and he was her one flaw in that.

"You know, I was pretty damn worried that we were going to lose you," Havoc said, "but it wasn't until after that phone call that I realized we could lose her too. And that was terrifying. To see the strongest woman I know just break down like that… It makes you feel pretty damn weak and my useless."

Roy smiled somewhat bitterly. "Now you know that rain isn't my greatest weakness."

"Yeah." Havoc let out a mirthless laugh and shook his head. "Her waterworks about stabbed me. I felt like I'd been gutted. There wasn't shit I could do except tell her that we were going to find you and that things would be okay. She'll probably tell you that I kept her grounded, but to be honest, I felt like I was dancing on a knife's edge the entire time and one step away from cracking."

Swallowing down another lump, Roy settled a serious gaze on his lieutenant. "Thank you, Havoc. I mean it. For what you did to save me, but more importantly, for what you did for her. It…it means a lot to me."

"Anything for you, boss," Havoc said, "but you know I've got her back too. We're a team. It's what we do."

The sound of the doorknob being twisted caught both of the men's attention and they turned their heads to watch the door swing open. With Breda behind her like a shadow watching over her, Riza stood in the threshold of the door and stared at Roy. She looked…thoroughly exhausted. Clearly she'd been staying here. Her clothes were uncharacteristically wrinkled and she had her hair pulled up, if only because it was a mess. There were circles under her eyes and there seemed to be less of a glow about her than normal.

She was, quite possibly, the most beautiful being that he had ever seen in his life.

Havoc cleared his throat and excused himself. As he slipped out the door, he gave Riza's shoulder a gentle squeeze and she smiled gratefully at him. He waved a hand at Roy once more before shutting the door behind him, leaving the two of them alone together.

"Brings back memories, doesn't it?" Roy asked, gesturing to himself in the hospital bed. "They even gave me the same room as when I got my vision back. I can tell from that blasted crack in the ceiling."

The smile on Riza's face changed. It wasn't grateful – it wasn't tired or resigned either – it was just…open. That was the only way he could describe it. For once, she wasn't hiding her thoughts from him behind an impassive expression or small, guarded smile. He saw the relief in her as plain as day, the pain that she'd gone through in getting him back, the warmth and fondness that she kept such a tight lid on. It startled him, if he was being honest.

After making her way over to him, Riza allowed him to tug on her hand so that she was sitting on the bed next to him, ignoring the chair that would've been far more appropriate. He needed her close to him though and didn't even let go of her hand once she was at his side, rubbing circles on the back of her hand with his thumb.

"You're shaking," Roy pointed out, rather surprised.

"You scared me, sir," Riza simply told him.

"That wasn't my intentions." Roy sighed. "I've always been terrible at putting people at ease."

Riza bobbed her head thoughtfully. "I don't know about that. I feel better now."

A soft smile wound its way onto Roy's face. He knew what she meant. Seeing her now, sitting next to her, being able to touch her – that brought him a world's worth of comfort. His captivity had been only a little under three days, but being parted from her in such a way had felt like he was cut off from everything completely. During the most painful parts of his torture, he'd tried to conjure her face, but it had grown more difficult with every blow. In his darkest moments, all he'd wanted was to see her one last time, run his fingers through her silky hair, press his face into the crook of her neck right where her scar was, breathe in her familiar scent, just…be with her.

He'd accepted his death at the price of his silence on the secrets of flame alchemy and protecting her life, but it hadn't been as easy as he'd thought it would be.

"I'm sorry for putting you in this position," Roy said, causing her amber eyes to flicker up to his. "Sometimes, I get careless with my life and I forget how interwoven mine is with yours."

Riza bit her lip. "It was admittedly difficult. I wouldn't have been able to handle it without Havoc."

Roy chuckled, though not unkindly. "He told me that you'd say that."

"It's true." Riza dropped her eyes onto their entangled hands. "I was so frightened and distraught. I was worried that those things would cloud my judgment and endanger the rescue mission. I was…terrified of what I might do when we found you." She shook her head at herself. "I put Havoc in charge."

"A risky move," Roy told her, "but clearly showed that you were being smart."

Riza gave him something of a wry look, however faint it was. "He deserves a vacation after what he did, maybe a bonus too. I put him through hell, I think."

"Only fair, since I put you through it as well," Roy added.

The two of them went silent. Despite the fact that he would have to eventually, he didn't want to talk about what had happened while he was being held captive. He would need to get the details on the rescue mission soon enough in order to figure out what exactly had happened. There would need to be an investigation too. He didn't even know if anyone had been killed during the raid, and he was nervous to ask. Since Riza had the forethought to put Havoc on point though, Roy was fairly confident in how his team had handled things.

"I already knew," Riza suddenly said. Roy glanced up at her curiously. "You don't have to say it for me to know."

"I know," Roy replied in a quiet voice. "It's just… I wish that I could. Sometimes, I take for granted that we don't have to talk to know things like that, to the point where I worry you might not know that I think about it all the times I can't say it."

"That's absurd."

Roy squeezed her hand. "I'm an absurd man. You should know that as well."

They smiled at one another. He wanted to do nothing more than kiss this woman. He probably looked like shit and physically felt like it as well. She looked as if she hadn't slept properly in a week. And yet he'd never wanted anything more. The idea that he might die without outright telling her how he felt out loud had shaken something loose in his mind and now that it was rattling around in his brain it would be difficult to let it go. He didn't want to hide it away anymore. He didn't know if he could.


	100. Until the Day

**Author's Notes:** And we're finally here! We've made it to the end! Thank you everyone for reading - for the follows, favorites, reviews, and everything in between! It has been such a pleasure writing for you all and receiving your amazing comments. I'm incredibly thankful to you all, each and every one of you. I looked forward to your feedback and it made me smile hopefully as much as I made you all smile.

As for whether or not I will write more, don't worry, I've already got another three part fic finished. It's simply set after this drabble, so I decided to wait to post it until I put this last one up. As for this one, well, it follows a certain theme and I'm really happy with how it turned out. I wanted the last one to feel conclusive and not just another drabble, and I think I really managed to do that. It's a stand-alone fic, as usual, but it also is a conclusion to the following in order: **Drabble 80 ("Categorize")** , **Drabble 70 ("Giddiness")** , **Drabble 96 ("Tomorrow, Too")** , and **Drabble 81 ("Foosteps")**. If you can remember what those were about, then you probably know what this one is about. Out of all the fics, it's also the latest one in the timeline. I accidentally fell in love with that universe I created and I'm just happy with this one.

Again, thank you all for reading and reviewing!

* * *

 _100\. Until the Day_

* * *

Despite the fact that she wasn't truly that old, Riza felt tired beyond her years. So much had happened in the past four years that no one had anticipated. They had struggled before, fought until they were bloodied and broken, but having been so close to their goals made it feel like they were crawling and only scratching at the surface. It hadn't helped that so many unexpected obstacles had jumped in their way.

She called it unexpected and she called it an obstacle, but she wouldn't have changed a thing and she loved her little unexpected obstacle more than she could have ever dreamed.

Now they were here, and Riza didn't know whether she was supposed to breathe in relief or to take a deep breath before going under the water again. They'd always told one another that this day would come – that Roy would reach the top in order to make changes and protect those below him. It had seemed so simple in the early days, but the closer he got to it, the more daunting it became. The more attainable it was, the further away it felt.

To think that the young, dashing, stubborn boy that she had loved as a teenager would become the Fuhrer of Amestris was unbelievable. It had been strange enough to see him as the Hero of Ishval. She had watched him transform right before her eyes, always watching his back and taking care of him when she could. She had always supported him in his gambits, even more so after Hughes' death, but now that he'd reached them, she didn't know what to do.

Riza picked at the sleeves of her shirt. She had them rolled up three-quarters of the way, so that they wouldn't get in the way, but that didn't make her feel any more at ease. It had been years since she'd worn a military uniform, but she still had trouble with wearing civilian clothes, even if they were practical. She hadn't thought that she would miss the old bulky and unflattering uniform, but the day she'd put it up had been a difficult one. Still, it had been the only way that she could keep guarding Roy's back and if it meant sacrificing a piece of herself in the long run, she had been willing to do it.

After all, she wasn't in the military for herself, not truly. She hadn't been in it for reasons like that for a long time, maybe not ever. Before she'd even left the Academy, her idealistic dreams had been dashed away. Still, she had been in the military for so long, guarding Roy's back as his adjutant, that she hadn't known what to do when she was honorably discharged.

It could have been worse, Riza reasoned as she stood outside the doorway to the Fuhrer's office. She could have been completely separated from Roy. He could've had a mark against his record that would've kept him from achieving his goals. They could have been kept apart. She had thought that she could handle never truly being with him – and maybe she could – but they weren't allowed to be totally selfish anymore.

And they had been selfish in their so-called selflessness. They had sought to punish each other by staying apart, by never fully being with one another, because they didn't believe they deserved to be happy. It had put so much strain on everyone else around them though and themselves. It had wounded them and others. They had been so terribly foolish with their guilty self-righteousness.

The door finally opened. Riza made sure to step to the side and wait with the same impassive expression that she had worn during her time as a soldier. A handful of people stepped out of the room, although only one or two of them eyed her curiously. Of course they knew who she was. These days, it wasn't as easy to be innocuous as she had once been, but she'd given up that right a long time ago. One man snorted derisively before looking away from her, but she ignored him. She'd given up the right to be angry about that too.

She knew what she was called behind her back, and she didn't give a damn. As far as she was concerned, she could withstand a thousand terrible names as long as the man she loved was protected. Roy got all up in arms about it whenever word got back to him about some of the things said about her. If it wasn't for the fact that it was irresponsible to threaten court marshal for name calling, he probably would've made it a law already. She didn't need him to defend her, but she did appreciate it nonetheless.

As it was, no one said anything about her if he was in earshot – really, if any of her former colleagues and friends were around. She still remembered showing up at the drunk tank with Rebecca at three in the morning to find a sheepish-looking Havoc and Breda behind the bars. Apparently, someone had called Riza some not-so-nice things and Havoc had thought it was a good idea to physically launch himself at the man. He insisted that he'd tripped. Whether Breda's fist fallen into the man's friend's face was debatable at best.

If she didn't know any better, Riza would say that the men in her life had handled her discharge from the military worse than she had.

It had been necessary though once their insubordination came to light. At the end of the day, there was only so much they could do before it became painfully obvious that the child Riza had bore was her superior officer's bastard child.

They had been lucky that the punishment had not been worse. Not only was his mentor the Fuhrer of Amestris, but the man was her grandfather as well. Secretly, he had been ecstatic that the two of them were together, but he could not afford to stretch the laws even for his family or something that made him happy. He could be pleased in private all he wanted about the fact that he was a great grandfather, but in the public eyes, he could not be seen showing any favoritism. In the end, she had stepped down and left the military, only for her grandfather to point out that new higher ups in the military were opting to hire personal bodyguards outside of the military.

The transition hadn't been as painful as she'd expected, but then she hadn't been alone. The men she had once served with and ordered became more like friends and family. Rebecca would tease that she would finally be able to beat Riza at something once she was promoted higher than Riza had been before leaving. She'd call Falman to ask him for advice and how his family was doing. Fuery actually enjoyed taking Black Hayate and her son off her hands for an afternoon here and there so that she and Roy could have some alone time. Breda was insistent on teaching her son shogi, of course. And then there was Havoc, who became more and more like her goofy brother as time passed on and an uncle to her son.

Besides, it wasn't like she didn't see them at work either. Roy had taken them with him when he had become Fuhrer. She didn't think they'd entirely expected it, but he had been insistent. Falman was still up at Briggs, having found a family up there of his own, but he was the liaison between Roy and General Armstrong, which made things easier between them.

No, despite all the changes and ups and downs that had happened over the years, despite the hardships and the heartaches, the near death experiences and the most heartwarming moments, things were good now. Riza felt like she could be at peace with her life. It was more than she could have dreamed of. She'd just been a quiet girl living a sheltered life alone before Roy had showed up on the doorstep and swept her into a whirlwind. She could never hate him for that, not when to follow him had been her choice.

She could be happy with what she had been given after all that she had taken.

"You can come in," Roy's voice called from inside.

Riza slipped into the office and shut the door behind her when he gestured at it. He sat slumped in the seat behind his desk, looking a little more than tired. Being the Fuhrer meant a lot more bureaucracy than one man could handle. Roy was excellent at being diplomatic – it was one of the things he had honed as a skill thanks to both Madam Christmas and Grumman – but it was thoroughly exhausting as well and entirely loathsome.

"You look tired, sir," Riza pointed out mildly, trying not to smile. "You have an hour before your meeting with General Moore."

She hadn't thought that Roy could slip further in his seat, but he did, sliding down and hiding his face under his military hat. Here he was, the Fuhrer of Amestris, and he was pouting behind his desk like he'd done when he was sixteen and had a stack of alchemy textbooks and notes thrown in front of him. "That man is still alive? He's still breathing just to piss me off. Cancel the meeting and fire him. There – that's done with."

"You know you can't do that, sir," Riza told him as she straightened the papers on his desk. For the most part, Roy was fairly immaculate when it came to his office and he didn't shirk his paperwork as he had done before, but he was always disheveled after meeting with the people in charge of the State Alchemist program. That was one of his major fighting points and it tended to get the better of him. "He's already looking for any reason to pick a fight with you now that you're Fuhrer to show that you aren't ready for the responsibility."

"He needs a reason for that?" Roy grumbled under his hat.

Riza reached over the desk and flicked the rim of the hat so that it tipped back upwards on the back of his head. When he gazed up at her, he gave her the most pitiful expression she had ever seen. Now she knew without a doubt where he son had gotten that from. Everyone said that their child acted just like her, but he was learning some pretty manipulative things from his father. Still, it only managed to cause her to smile at him. Little things like this would've been nonexistent when she was serving in the military under him. Even now, it caused her a thrill to do something as simple as tease him.

"I suppose I should get ready then," Roy sighed as he straightened up in his seat. He stood up and tugged at his jacket, making sure that everything was in place, but he looked quite remarkable after a two hour meeting that most likely ended with terse goodbyes at best. "The last time I had a hair out of place, he said on that radio talk show that I was young ruffian too careless to even brush my hair."

He sniffed at that and ran his fingers through his dark hair. The comment had made Riza laugh more than she wanted to admit, but his deeply affronted reaction had been even funnier, especially when their son had then decided it was an appropriate time to tug at Roy's hair and ask if he was starting to grey. She had never seen Roy look so utterly betrayed before.

"I'll get something from the mess hall to bring up for you while you prep," Riza told him. He looked rather mournfully at the window. Because of the meeting, he wouldn't be able to go out for his own lunch and would be stuck working through it. She thought he missed being able to eat with all the men; he didn't complain, but he did light up whenever the team decided to eat lunch with him under the guise of getting work done together.

"Much appreciated. And if you could–"

"I know, if they have spinach quiche, get you two," Riza interrupted, rolling her eyes in the process.

Roy grinned at her, looking remarkably young all things considered. He rifled through the top drawer of his desk and then held out an envelope. "Could you take this to the post?"

Nodding her head, Riza took the envelope without looking at it. The urge to salute him was powerful, having been second nature for so long, but she stuffed it away. Without another word, she walked out of the office and headed in the direction of the post room. As she was walking though, she became curious about the envelope. She didn't know what he would have to mail. Maybe it was something to Edward or Alphonse. Despite their still antagonistic relationship, Roy liked to keep in correspondence with them. He said it was for academic purposes, but she knew that was a lie.

However, when Riza looked at the name on the envelope, she froze on the spot. Written on the front was not Edward's or Alphonse's name, but her son's name – _their_ son's name.

It felt as if her heart leapt into her throat and she couldn't breathe. All she could do was stare down at the envelope in shock and confusion. Maybe it was for someone else with the same name, but she didn't think so, not with only the name written on it in Roy's messy scrawl and no sign of an address or postage. It didn't make sense that Roy would write a letter to their son though. He was doing well in learning his letters and how to read, but he wasn't exactly capable of reading much beyond See Spot Run.

That was when it hit her: the letter that Roy had handed to her was not meant to be mailed and it wasn't meant for their son either; it was meant for _her_.

The entire hallway could've been filled with people, and Riza wouldn't have even noticed it. Luckily, she was alone as she carefully peeled open the envelope and pulled out a handwritten letter. The paper didn't shake in her hands even though her heart was beating frantically and her mind was racing in confusion. Slowly the words came to her, like a gentle touch, something she was so familiar with him and yet seemed impossible to others.

 _Dear Bug,_

 _I need to start this off by telling you how much I love you. I don't say it often enough, but you should know that I do. Your mom says that you know and you have told me yourself, but I still feel regretful in not saying it more. You're so much like your mother in that way. How you manage to know these things beyond your years will never cease to amaze me. How both you and your mother have put up with me for even this long amazes me more. I'm sure you won't ever stop making me wonder._

 _Before you were born – before we could even imagine that you would exist – I never could have imagined how much I wanted to be a father. Now that I am one, I keep thinking of all the times my best friend used to tell me how incredible it was to be a dad. I used to scoff at him, hang up the phone on him, or even yell at him. The man was relentless in heckling me about my happiness. It turns out he was right. I had so many goals and dreams about the future, but it's strange that the one I hadn't counted on – had actively ignored – is the one that is perhaps the most fulfilling._

 _After all, they do say that kids are the future and I want to make the future a better place – for the people that I hurt in the past, for my loved ones in the present, for the children of the future, for you. Sounds pretty dumb, doesn't it? You've got an idiot dreamer for a father._

 _But you know what I dream about the most? It's in the middle of the day and we're at the park that your mom likes to take you to play. You're sitting on my shoulders, eating your favorite ice cream (double fudge, of course), some of it probably dripping on my shoulders. Black Hayate is running around chasing ducks. Your mom is at my side, holding my free hand, while my other hand holds onto your legs so you don't fall. You're laughing and your mom is smiling and we're all together._

 _You call me Dad._

 _It's a dream I have on a near daily basis. It seems so simple, doesn't it? A happy, loving family out in public. There have been nights where I've woken up in fear that it won't ever happen. Times when I roll over and find that I'm alone and I hope that you're okay. I wonder about all the times you wake up in the middle of the night and tiptoe into the bedroom to ask me for a story, only to find that I'm not there. I worry that you're confused about my occasional absence or scared that I might not come back. I picture you curling up in bed around your mother and her holding onto you because I know how much you love to cuddle in bed._

 _To think that this simple dream can also be my greatest nightmare…_

 _This has been a strange time for you, one that I know you don't always understand but accept as your world. I want you to know that it won't always be that way. I promise. I promise with every bit of my being – and you can ask your mother, I always keep my promises. It's just that your mother and I made some promises to each other and to the world. We had to make up for things that we did in the past. It'll be years before you can understand it and maybe even longer before I can admit my sins to you. I never want to disappoint you or scare you, and that is why we've had to do the things that we have done._

 _It hasn't been easy. You and your mother have been so patient with me as I reach my goals. It kills me whenever I think about your mom sitting you down and explaining that you couldn't call me dad or father in public. I don't think I've ever felt so wounded, if only because you were so brave about it. You didn't cry. You didn't get angry. You just…did. So like your mother. I thank the universe on a constant basis that you are more like her, even if you did get my charming good looks._

 _So much time as passed and we've worked so hard to get where we are. We have all made sacrifices and painful decisions. Your mother has given up so much and done even more to help me. I didn't mean for you to play a part in this as well, but you handled it with remarkable strength and only a few temper tantrums. (And my god, how your tantrums are so much like your mother's – absolutely cold and quiet and yet filled with emotion. You could run a nation on that kind of threat alone.)_

 _But we're here, aren't we? I've finally reached the lofty goals that I set up for myself over a decade ago. That should mean something. I've had this feeling for a few months now, like something is in the air. Your mother would call it change. We feel it every now and then, a breeze, a hint that it's time for something new. And I think it is. I'm a dreamer, remember? It's time to fulfill another dream, your dream, your mother's, maybe even mine. This dream though, I will admit, has been in my mind for longer than even my being Fuhrer. This dream I've had since I was just a teenager, back when I was innocent, back when I could love with everything in me._

 _It took me almost twenty years, but I think I can do that again, if your mother will let me._

 _Always,_

 _Your Father_

Only when a drop of water splashed against the paper, smearing a few of the words, did Riza realize that hot tears had sprung into her eyes. Still, the letter did not shake, but she felt something burning inside of her, threatening to escape. Something good, something terrifying, something familiar. She took a few halting breaths as her thumbs rubbed against the paper.

Riza closed her eyes as a smile crossed her lips. She didn't need to look to feel his gaze on her. When she finally opened her eyes and turned around, she found Roy leaning against the wall, watching her with a warm look in his eyes. His expression was so soft and gentle, so entirely open to her and vulnerable as well. He only looked like that with her and their son, his little Bug, as Roy always called him. To see it on him now, after reading his words, took her breath away.

Roy meandered towards her. "You always said that you would follow me," he began carefully, "but you would word it so particularly."

When he was standing in front of her, she allowed him to take her hands, though he only held them by her fingers. They weren't in the safety of his interior office, but there was no one around either. Later, she would have a sneaking suspicion that Havoc and the others had made sure that they would be alone, but right now, she couldn't think about that, not when she was so focused on the man in front of her.

"Until that day," Riza said quietly.

"Yes, that was it, until that day, until I reached my goals." Roy looked around the hallway. "There's a lot more that needs to be done, but I…I need to ask you one more thing."

She thought that her heart should've jumped even further, that she should have gasped, that maybe time itself should have stopped for her. But none of that happened. She wasn't filled with elation or shock; she wasn't afraid or unsure. Instead, she was filled with a gentle warmth that seeped all the way to the tips of her fingers and toes and a powerful fondness for this man surged inside of her, like it was a part of her being. Could she even remember a time when she hadn't felt that for him?

"It's past time that I become the man that I was always meant to be," Roy said, his words firm but his voice wavering. "Not the leader of this country, but…the father to our child, the man proud to be at your side, the kind of person that Hughes hoped to see me become."

She realized suddenly that he was actually _nervous_ and that only made her feel even warmer. The man had stared death in the face multiple times, witnessed atrocities beyond belief, faced and fought monsters, forced through the Gate and seen Truth, blinded for simply dreaming of a better future, and confronted the sins of his past and worked to better the world – and he was afraid now.

"Will you follow me in this?" Roy asked her.

Riza almost laughed, but instead she bit her lip, smiling and shaking her head at him. She stepped closer so that she was pressed against him and let go of his hands so that she could wrap her arms around his neck. He gave her a lopsided grin, still a tad anxious, and buried his face in the crook of her neck. "After all this time, you have to ask?"

No, he really didn't. She didn't have to say the word for him to know that the answer was yes.


End file.
